


This Bitter Earth

by Neeka



Series: Like Puzzle Pieces From The Clay [2]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, As much smut as I can cope with (spoiler alert it’s not much), Definitely need to read the previous fic before this one, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fuck show canon, M/M, Shit summary better fic, Team Family, War, canon is mine now, whisperer arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2019-09-30 04:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 101,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17216798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neeka/pseuds/Neeka
Summary: In the aftermath of a miracle, new horrors are unveiled.With more to lose than ever before, can the New World be saved?





	1. Chapter 1

Daryl was running. He was trying to get to something, to _find_ something. It was the most important thing in his whole world and he needed to reach it or the black storm chasing him would swallow him whole.

He was running through a town, its broken buildings getting taller, the shadows growing deeper and darker, horrible noises coming from inside the alleys, the stench of blood too thick and strong everywhere he went. The cracked pavement broke away underneath his feet, dropping him in a field, bloody tracks in the grass leading him onwards. Daryl forced himself to run and follow it, even as something in his very bones told him he wouldn’t like what he found.

The blood was getting thicker, more and more of it on the trodden grass until he broke through into the woods that were no longer in the distance but right in front of him. Growls and the faint echoes of haunting, agonised screams rang through the trees as Daryl ran faster, knowing he had to find whoever was screaming. Something glinted on the ground just ahead as he slowed down to look.

A knife.

Paul, it was _Paul_. That’s who was screaming, that’s who was _bleeding_. How could he ever have forgotten? Pure terror spread through Daryl so strong he thought he’d die from it, feet running towards the screams as fast as he could possibly go. When he finally broke through into a clearing, an animal noise of pain escaped him.

Daryl was too late. He’d taken too long finding him. He couldn’t save him and there was nobody to blame but himself.

A herd of bloody, gore strewn walkers were just ahead, all of them turning to stare at him with something that looked like a smile on their blood stained faces as they turned as one and walked away, leaving Daryl to drop numbly to his knees in front of all that remained of the person he loved more than anything else on earth.

Weak, hollow cries of pain left him as he looked down at Paul’s mangled body, insides torn out and spread across the ground, blood and viscera staining the whole of Daryl’s world. He reached out and touched Paul’s cold, pale face, the only part of him still recognisable. He almost wished it wasn’t. His eyes were open and unseeing, no warmth in them. No love.

“‘M sorry,” Daryl choked out, sobs caught in his chest, pain tearing through him so fierce he could hardly stand it. “It’s all my fault, should’a gotten here quicker. ‘M sorry Paul, don’t leave me. _Please_.”

He sobbed harder, knowing it was too late, Paul had already gone. What was left for Daryl now? What was the point in anything? 

Daryl was staring at Paul’s face through his tears when those empty eyes flicked to his, the mangled body sitting up quicker than lightning, hand grabbing Daryl’s hair as Paul bared his teeth and lunged to bite into Daryl’s-

 - he jolted awake, only just managing to choke back a shout through years of muscle memory. 

Confusion and fear clouded his tired mind, overshadowed by the almost overwhelming wave of grief crashing down on him. Then the events of yesterday clicked in, right at the same moment as he recognised the beat of a heart and the rising and falling of the chest he was still lying on. 

The relief brought tears to his eyes again, Daryl going boneless as he realised Paul was safe, was really lying in bed with him. He was obviously totally out of it to stay asleep even with Daryl jolting awake right on his damn chest, his breathing still slow and even. Carefully, Daryl moved off Paul and sat up, breath hitching in his chest as he took the opportunity to just look at him. He was so fucking beautiful, even exhausted and battered as he was. Daryl hardly dared to believe he got to be the one to lie next to him, to hold him and- and _love_ him.

How close he actually came to losing Paul still filled Daryl with the worst kind of paralysing fear and agony, the phantom emotions from the past few days still there under the surface. He couldn’t do that again, he wouldn’t survive it. No matter what happened in their lives, Daryl just hoped to God he died before Paul. 

Slowly, he reached out and moved a piece of hair that had fallen over Paul’s face, unable to stop himself softly running his thumb over his cheek. He could have lost this, could have lost Paul and all the things they now had in front of them again. Looking down at him, Daryl decided there and then that he wouldn’t let his fear stop him again, wouldn’t ever let the ghosts of old hateful words or the worry of what might happen in the future prevent him from being with and fucking loving Paul. Life could screw you over in a heartbeat but he’d be damned if he didn’t bleed every bit of joy and happiness out of it first.

Paul made him feel alive, made him feel whole and complete in a way he’d never been before. It was like he’d been waiting for Paul all his life, a bit of his very soul empty and longing, knowing there was someone out there that was meant to complete him and getting lonelier and lonelier with every person that wasn’t _him_. Then Paul came along and it all fell into place. He cringed at his own sappiness, but they really were two parts of a whole, something in Paul completing something in Daryl and vice versa.

Daryl needed Paul, needed everything he was, everything he had been and everything he would be. He needed him on a level that defied description or understanding. The world could try, but he’d burn it down before it took Paul from him.

Paul finally shifted, sensing Daryl’s eyes on him maybe, even through exhaustion and blood loss, slowly opening his eyes and going utterly still for a second before he registered Daryl’s presence. Then his face broke into a soft, sleepy smile and Daryl felt his heart seize in his chest, the bizarre urge to cry hitting him again.

“Hey,” he choked out, voice rough, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. 

“Morning,” Paul replied, sounding sleepy and soft in a way he never usually did after waking, “been awake long?”

“Nah, not really,” he hedged, not entirely sure he wanted Paul to know he’d been watching him sleep and would have happily continued to for as long as he could. 

Paul grinned, eyes twinkling. “I must have been really out of it, not to notice you staring at me huh?”

Daryl felt his face heat up, shoving Paul’s uninjured shoulder gently. “Fuck off asshole.” 

Paul chuckled, looking utterly delighted. Nice to know Paul was still going to be a prick no matter what happened between them.

“No, it’s sweet! Good to know I’m just that cute, even flat out asleep.”

“Ain’t nothin’ cute about you,” he grumbled, avoiding the fondness clear on Paul’s face.

“Oh really,” Paul continued, sweet as sugar and overjoyed at the chance for some teasing, “then what were you so focused on, if not my adorable face hmm?”

Daryl looked down at his fidgeting fingers, the honest answer escaping him before he could catch it. “Breathin’,” he muttered, “was watchin’ you breathe.”

Everything went still and silent for a second before he heard Paul let out a muffled groan as he pushed himself up, Daryl finally looking up to meet his eyes when he felt Paul’s hand slip into his. He looked dumbstruck, overwhelmed even, before a particular expression spread over his face that Daryl had only recently realised was love.

“What did I ever do to deserve to find you Daryl? A whole life lonely and the end of the world brings me you.” 

The pure honesty and feeling in his words made Daryl’s heart seize up, unable to process how he too could have found someone who loved him, actually _loved_ him like Paul. It was so beyond belief he almost wanted to pinch himself. He never would though, if this was a dream, he’d rather stay asleep. 

“World owed me,” he said finally, “karma and shit. You’re just along for the ride.” 

Paul just looked at him for a moment before an utterly delighted grin broke over his face, eyes bright as he shook his head at him. “You really are one of a kind Daryl. Well I guess I’m just lucky that karma picked me to drag along then.”

Despite his resolve to not let anything stop him being with Paul and showing his feelings, it was still new and Daryl found he just didn’t have the words to express the emotions in his chest. Hell, he could barely believe that anyone would ever feel _lucky_ to have ended up with him.

In the end, there were no words and Daryl didn’t make himself try, sure Paul knew him well enough by now not to be offended when Daryl scoffed and looked away, feeling heat in his cheeks.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that,” he grumbled half heartedly, even as he admittedly loved the way Paul looked at him; like he was important, like he surprised him or fascinated him. Still made him blush like a fucking schoolgirl though.

“And what exactly is ‘that’ hmm Daryl??”

The familiar teasing in Paul’s voice made him relax a little, even as he felt a shiver go down his spine at the way Paul exaggeratedly dragged his eyes up and down Daryl’s body.

“Ya know exactly what I mean, quit it. Fucks sake, get up and eat. Ya need your meds.”

Daryl all but threw himself out of the bed as he was talking, once again getting a laugh from Paul at the grace of his movements, finally getting his feet on solid ground and hauling ass straight into the kitchen. Anything to get away from those damn eyes and what they did to him, what all of Paul did to him.

He pointedly ignored the low chuckle coming from the bed as Paul heaved himself up, groaning quietly in pain as he stood. Daryl resolved to force the pain pills down his neck whether he wanted them or not, fucking stubborn idiot. He could practically feel the argument about ‘wasting valuable resources that someone else might need’ already.

“Want eggs?” Daryl called over his shoulder, already rooting about in the draws for a pan and grabbing a few eggs from the basket on the side.

“Err, yeah, that’d be nice actually. Thanks Daryl.”

He didn’t hear Paul coming up behind him, but he felt it all the same, the subtle shift in the air, warmth along his back, his heart picking up its beats like crazy. He knew Paul would never just grab or touch him out of nowhere, not without Daryl seeing or knowing, so Daryl simple looked over his shoulder, just a little, just enough to let Paul know he was aware of his presence.

Though he’d never admit it, even under pain of death, Daryl felt like melting as Paul wrapped his arms around him, his chest pressed tight to Daryl’s back, deceptively strong arms holding tight around his waist. Daryl set down the pan and let his arms settle over Paul’s, feeling Paul rest his forehead against the back of Daryl’s hair and pressing a kiss there before he let go with a final, gentle squeeze.

“Gonna wash up a bit. Be back in a second.”

He retreated into the bathroom before Daryl could even pull his brain together enough to reply. Fucking hell, he was so gone on Paul it was embarrassing.

The rest of the morning passed in the strangest, most pleasant way possible. Daryl made them both eggs on toast, the two of them sitting together at their table, in their trailer, eating their breakfast together. Daryl never knew something so simple could be so wonderful.

They talked as they ate, neither of them touching the heavy subjects yet, not mentioning what happened or what might happen still. Instead, Daryl teased Paul about his sketches, asking if Paul wanted to “draw me like one of ya French girls next?”. That of course backfired when Paul tore into him about obviously having watched Titanic.

If they ended up holding hands at some point, well, Daryl wasn’t going to complain about it.

As much as Daryl longed to keep Paul to himself for the day, to lock the door of their trailer and just keep him safe and rested and comfortable, Daryl knew he was pissing in the wind. A little thing like a stab wound wasn’t going to stop Paul when there was trouble on the horizon or a mystery to be solved. Daryl resolved himself to just having to keep an eye on him then.

Paul was swarmed almost as soon as he finally left the trailer, anyone in the immediate vicinity coming over to see him, to tell him how devastated they were when they thought he’d died and how happy they were now that he was back. Just like yesterday, Paul continued to look faintly surprised, some part of him still always so sure he didn’t mean much to the people around him.

In the light of day, it was still all too clear how banged up Paul was, his face far too pale and dark circles under his eyes. It was subtle, probably only noticeable to Daryl, but Paul moved carefully too, gingerly, his shoulder and thigh wound still causing him pain even if he didn’t let it show. Daryl once again resisted the urge to drag him back to the trailer and make him rest. Stupid prick hadn’t even taken any painkillers in the end, no matter what Daryl said.

“What are you doing up so soon Jesus? Shouldn’t you be restin’?”

They turned to see Maggie come towards them from the gardens, joy and worry warring on her face as she looked over Paul. His crowd of well wishers dispersed with a few more kind words and gentle pats on the back, leaving them to it. Paul immediately beamed at her and warmly accepted her gentle hug.

“God you sound like Daryl,” he said with a grin and a put upon tone, “I’m fine, honestly.” 

“Surprised he’s let you out actually!”

“I am here ya know?” Daryl grumbled, cheeks warm. “Assholes”

They both grinned at him, Paul nudging him with his uninjured arm and a wink before his face became serious once more, turning back to Maggie.

“Honestly, I can’t just sit around when we could be on the verge of something bad. Has anyone talked to Lydia yet? Tried to find out where she came from or who her group is?” 

Maggie nodded, face grim. “Yeah, Rick tried first thing this morning before he headed back to Alexandria. She wouldn’t answer a thing, didn’t even talk at all. I just tried myself but she ignored me too, wouldn’t even take any of the food or water I offered her.”

“I want to try talking to her.”

“The hell?” Daryl spat out in surprise. “Her group tried to kill ya!”

Paul looked at Daryl and nodded. “Yeah, her _group_ did, not her. She doesn’t strike me as particularly murderous Daryl, just very mixed up. Who knows what led her to be with that group or what they convinced her. Plus, I’m the only familiar face to her here, maybe that’ll help. I can try at least.”

Daryl had to admit, it made sense. What didn’t make sense however, was his sudden, admittedly irrational, feelings of worry over Paul. Yeah, he’d always worried about him, but he knew damn well Paul could take care of himself, the past few days alone should prove that, but he couldn’t stop the overwhelming terror at the thought of anything happening to him again. There was literally nothing that girl could do to Paul, but she was _there_ , she was with the group that stabbed him and for some reason, that set his still anxious nerves alight.

“Okay Jesus,” Maggie said after a moment, “sounds like an idea. Even if you can’t get any information from her, just try and get her to eat or drink okay? I’ll be in my office, fill me in whenever you’re done.” She hesitated a moment, before gently pulling Paul into another hug.

“It really is so good to see you Jesus,” she said softly, “can hardly believe it. Don’t you go scarin’ me like that again okay? Any of us. Don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Do my best,” he whispered back, squeezing her tighter with his good arm, Daryl able to clearly see the soft expression on his face. They separated with smiles, Maggie squeezing Daryl’s shoulder as she walked past him towards Barrington.

“So,” Paul began after a moment of silence, turning to stand in front of him, “gonna tie me up and stop me going? Keep me safe from the big, bad captured girl?”

Daryl felt his cheeks warm at Paul’s teasing, shuffling awkwardly under his fond gaze.

“You do know I can handle myself right?” he continued softly, “I know things went a little sideways this time, but I’d still have made it back to you.”

“I know,” Daryl muttered, feeling stupid all over again as he looked at his feet, “I know ya can. Don’t mean to make ya think I don’t know that. Just, ya know... worried. Still. Can’t seem to make it go away yet.” 

Paul’s hand slipped into his, squeezing gently, smiling at him when Daryl squeezed back and finally looked up. “I get it Daryl,” he said kindly, “I do. Honestly, I’d probably be the same if it was the other way around, maybe even worse. But things are going to be happening soon I think. I have a bad feeling about that group and we need to be ready. And I need to be able to do what I need to. So do you. Our lives belong to more than just each other and we both know that.”

Daryl nodded, heart racing at the thought. Paul was right, they were both committed to the people of the communities first, they always had been. It was a terrifying thought, the idea that he might one day have to choose between the wellbeing of everyone and the wellbeing of Paul. He couldn’t rightly say what he’d do in that situation and that alone scared the shit out of him. 

“Hey, come here.”

Paul stopped forward, hand gently cupping the back of Daryl’s head, tilting it down to press their foreheads together. “We’re both here okay? Together. After everything, that’s got to count for something right?”

It did, it really did. The fact that the dark, twisting paths of their lives somehow crossed over, somehow allowed them to meet and stay together no matter what was thrown at them, meant _everything_. Daryl threaded his hand into Paul’s hair and closed his eyes, soaking up the feeling of being able to do that, to touch him, to know that they were together after getting as close as he ever had to losing him. It gave Daryl strength he never thought he’d have, gave him safety and surety, made him feel for the first time in his entire life that he truly wasn’t alone. He hoped Paul got the same thing from him.

They separated after a moment more, Daryl soaking up the soft, warm smile on Paul’s face, hardly daring to believe he caused it to be there, but knowing it in his bones all the same.

“I’m gonna go see Lydia now, God knows she must be thirsty at least. Want to come with me to talk to her? I’d rather see her alone first, see if I can get her to trust me, but it’d be nice knowing you’re hiding around the corner like my overprotective shadow.”

Even knowing that it was just to placate him, Daryl really didn’t care, already feeling that irrational terror settle at the thought of being nearby. He’d figure it out, find some way to deal with that fear other than tailing Paul everywhere, but he figured he could cut himself a bit of slack for today at least.

He nodded his agreement, Paul smiling again with understanding in his eyes, both of them turning and heading to the cells together. As they walked, people continuing to shout hellos when they saw them, Daryl was relieved to see Paul wasn’t limping today. Then again, Daryl knew that might well be down to Paul forcing himself not to now that he wasn’t so exhausted.

He kept watching him for signs of pain, knowing damn well that shoulder wounds hurt like a bitch, but as always, the inner workings of Paul’s mind and feelings were swept off his face. Regardless, no matter what Paul said, Daryl would be dragging him off to see Siddiq once they were done with the kid, knowing Paul would conveniently forget the doctors orders to see him for a check up.

They soon reached the old root cellar that housed the jail, Daryl opening it with a warning look before Paul could even try, both of them heading down and relieving the guard on duty and collecting his keys. There was a bottle of water and an apple on a tray outside, left from Maggie’s attempt to get through to the prisoner no doubt. With a comforting smile at Daryl, Paul carefully bent to pick up the tray with his good arm, Daryl glaring at him once he’d straightened up, before he rounded the corner out of sight. Moments later, he heard the cell door open and close once more.

Daryl got himself comfortable leaning against the outer wall just out of sight, listening intently now that he couldn’t see Paul, hearing nothing but silence for a few moments.

“Hey,” he finally heard Paul say, voice gentle and kind, “Lydia right? Pretty sure you remember me. I’m Paul, but most people call me Jesus.”

There was silence for a moment, before a quiet, stilted voice answered. “Yeah, remember you. Wasn’t sure you were still alive.”

Paul chuckled softly. “It’ll take more than this to take me down. How’s your head? I’m sorry I knocked you out, I just wasn’t sure who was coming and didn’t want you getting free. I’m not going to hurt you though, none of us are. You have my word on that.”

“Your word means nothing.”

“That’s fair,” he agreed easily, “you don’t know me after all. But I did promise I wasn’t going to kill you, remember? I said I’d keep you safe. I’ve kept that promise already and I’ll keep on doing so.” 

“We’ll see.” 

She was damn stubborn, anger covering the fear in her voice almost perfectly, but Daryl knew if he could still hear it, still sense it, then Paul could to.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Been a good while since you drank anything at least. I’ve got some water here, food too.”

The girl was silent, Daryl shifting impatiently. They had questions to ask and they needed answering quick, every wasted moment niggling at him in the face of this potential new enemy. He couldn’t blame her for her reluctance though.

“I can tell you want some. I promise it’s safe, look.”

Daryl heard a bottle top opening and assumed Paul took a sip. “See, just normal water. I’m gonna untie you but please don’t try anything.”

Despite knowing there was nothing she could do, a momentary flash of worry hit Daryl before he ruthlessly forced it down, listening to the sounds of ropes being untied and Lydia drinking.

“Thanks,” she said after a moment, sounding both reluctant and suddenly _younger_ , like something about the simple action of giving her safe water had made her to drop her act a bit. Daryl wasn’t surprised it was Paul that got through to her; even as dangerous and tricky and clever as he was, the core of Paul was nothing but kindness.

“It’s no problem. Want some apple?” He heard Paul take a bite, followed by an over exaggerated moan that still managed to set Daryl’s face on fire. “I swear, these apples get nicer every harvest. Try some.”

She must have accepted, no sound coming through the open door other than munching. It was nerve wracking for Daryl, unable to see what was happening, feeling like time was being wasted as Paul worked to gain her trust. He had no doubt it would work, Paul was impossible to resist really, but Daryl’s impatience had him chomping at the bit, wanting to find out what was going on so they could just prepare for it.

He hoped it was nothing, hoped her group was nothing more than a small band of freaks doing their own thing far away from everyone else. The ones who hurt Paul paid for it, too quick and too easy for the anger Daryl felt towards them for what they did, but it was over. Daryl was the last person that wanted to jump into trouble again, to have to fight again.

Things were going well, their communities were advancing, growing, all of them finally working on building that new world Paul had once talked about. The thought of having to defend that, maybe even lose it, struck Daryl through with terror. A pessimistic voice in the back of his head was telling him it was inevitable, that this was _always_ how it went. Find something good, nurture it, see it grow, then watch it be torn out from under you and burnt into nothing.

“So Lydia, I’m gonna have to ask you some questions okay?”

The return of Paul’s voice brought him out of his rising dread, clutching onto the strong, warm sound like a lifeline. 

“Why should I answer anything for you?”

“Well your group did attempt to kill my friends. Not to mention stabbing me in the shoulder, cutting my leg and trying to drag me back to your camp for information. And I _assume_ that wouldn’t have been pleasant and would likely have ended in death.”

The dryness of Paul’s tone almost made him grin a little, despite the shiver that rundown sent down his spine.

“What do you want to know?”

“First of all, what’s up with the walker suits?”

The girl was quiet for a moment before she finally answered, tone flat like she was repeating something she’d had drilled into her head over and over. “The skin makes the dead leave us alone. We travel with them, they protect us... and we protect them.”

“Okay,” Paul said, the faintest hint of unease obvious in his voice to Daryl, “why?”

“Because that is all that is left for us in this world. For us to live and them to not. We live together or we don’t live at all. We all learn or we die. That’s what we’re taught.You haven’t learnt that yet, but you will.”

Her words sent a feeling running down Daryl’s spine, the same feeling he’d had when the news started talking about a virus, when they met the Governor, when the name Negan was first mentioned. It was a feeling of oncoming doom, of waiting on the shore and watching a tidal wave rush towards you, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop it and no way to run from it.

“That sounds like a threat,” Paul replied, tone calm but with enough edge to it that he hoped she realised who she was talking to, hoped she _vividly_ remembered exactly how Paul took out her little group.

“Not a threat. We make no threats. We just do. That’s what we were taught.”

“Who taught you that? Your parents? Your leader? Who made you think that was the only way?” 

She didn’t answer, silence stretching between the two for a few moments before Paul moved on. “How old are you anyway?”

“Sixteen.”

“You’re a child! There can’t be many of you if they let children out on the front line.”

“There are no children anymore,” she said flatly, “childhood was always a myth brought on by the illusion of safety, an illusion we can no longer afford.” 

“Well aren’t you just a cheery ray of sunshine.”

Under his dry sarcasm, Daryl could detect unease. Something about this whole thing was bothering Paul and he wasn’t the only one. Daryl also didn’t like the idea of whatever indoctrination the kid had gone through, not to mention what it could mean if a whole group believed the same.

“Why... why did you let me live?” she asked, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen. “We hurt you, tried to kill you. Would have done worse to get information from you. Why am I still alive? What are you keeping me for?”

She sounded uncertain, scared even, though she was hiding it well. He hoped it was genuine emotion and not a trick because Paul would have no doubt picked up on it, his kindness and protective instincts probably already kicking in.

“I let you live because there was no reason to kill you,” he answered gently but firmly. “I didn’t want to kill you and I never will. Your people hurt me and tried to kill me but they paid for it. You didn’t do anything. And we’re keeping you here because we need information on your group, just like yours wanted from me. The difference is, we won’t hurt you for it.”

Yep, they’d kicked in all right.

“But- why? I don’t _understand_!”

Despite his anger and continued suspicion, Daryl couldn’t help but feel for her. She was genuinely confused, really and truly not understanding why she wasn’t being hurt. He knew that tone. Fuck he was getting soft.

“You will,” Paul promised, Daryl practically able to hear that sweet, soft smile in his voice. “Now how about you let me ask the questions okay? Then we’ll find you some fresh clothes, you can get out of the rest of the... skin suit.”

“... okay.”

Paul asks her a few more questions, just easy ones really. They live everywhere apparently, roaming around like animals, or more accurately, like the dead they imitate. She also seemed to let it slip that they do have a leader but refused to say more. She said nothing else of value after that but Daryl got the feeling that Paul wasn’t really pushing for anything more. He seemed to be playing a long game with her, gaining her trust by proving her safety in their hands, hoping to get more information out of her that way. Can catch more flies with honey after all.

“Okay then Lydia,” Paul said warmly, “thank you for your help. New clothes will be brought to you as promised and some food too if you’d like?”

“Who’s gonna bring them? Why can’t you?”

“I have a lot of things to do I’m afraid,” he answered apologetically, “but I can promise that whoever brings them is trustworthy. I’ll come and see you later if you’d like?”

“...yeah. Yeah okay.”

Daryl was impressed, Paul having seemed to successfully win the girl over in the span of one conversation. Not that it came as much of a surprise, he really did have a talent for that, the tricky little prick. She wasn’t wrong to trust Paul though, or to like him, his promises and assurances never just lip service. With him around, she was as safe as she was ever likely to get.

Paul said his goodbyes and locked the cell door, rounding the corner and smiling at Daryl before he began ascending the ladder, Daryl following silently behind.

“Jesus!”

Almost as soon as they emerged back into the sunlight, Paul was accosted. They barely had time to close the cellar door behind them before Enid all but threw herself at Paul, only just remembering to be gentle as she pulled him into a hug.

Daryl stood back and watched with fondness. Enid was a taller than Paul now, tears in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. They’d always been close, ever since Paul welcomed her, Maggie and Sasha into his trailer and into his care. Their relationship had only gotten stronger in the years since then and Daryl knew Paul loved her like a little sister, Enid adoring Paul in return.

She finally pulled back after pressing a kiss to Paul’s cheek before scolding him in a shaking voice. “Don’t you _ever_ do that again okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” Paul replied with a wry grin, “already used up my one resurrection after all, I better be careful from now on.”

Daryl knew Paul was trying to make light of the situation, to move the conversation away from actual emotions, never having met a topic he couldn’t avoid if he wanted to, but for once Enid wasn’t having it. Her face grew solemn and serious, looking far older than her years.

“No, it’s not funny Jesus,” she said, enough emotion in her voice that it made the grin slowly slide of Paul’s face. “You’ve got no idea what it was like for everyone when we thought you were dead. All of Hilltop was mourning, every single person. And that’s not even mentioning Daryl or Maggie... or me. So don’t brush all of that off, it’s not fair to us.”

Even as Daryl knew it’d be hard for Paul to hear, he was glad he had, glad someone had said it. Daryl was too caught up in his own grief to even notice anybody else’s, but he wasn’t surprised to hear that everyone at Hilltop was grieving for him. Paul was special, was so integral to the place and its people, hell, to the new world in general.

Maybe it hadn’t always been that way, Daryl clearly remembering how nobody asked after Paul when they’d all first met. The group they’d saved on their way to Hilltop obviously thought nothing about how or why Paul had ended up with their group and Daryl wasn’t even sure if they’d asked why the fuck he’d been _handcuffed_ when they’d all come stumbling back into the sunlight. Nobody at Hilltop even seemed to wonder why Paul had been delayed either.

He got a feeling that Paul was often taken for granted, nobody really seeing him beyond the Jesus thing, beyond the person who sorted out their problems, who went out into the world like it was nothing and came back with whatever was needed, the one found each of their communities and brought them together.

Yeah, it might have been like that once, but ever since Maggie took over and Paul allowed himself to be present within the community, sticking around more and letting people in, interacting on a different level than before, Daryl knew the people had grown to adore him as well as need him. It was about time he started to realise that.

Paul finally nodded, clearing his throat awkwardly before pulling Enid back into a hug. “Okay, okay I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” 

Paul met Daryl’s eye over Enid’s shoulder, shooting Daryl a soft, apologetic smile that did something strange to Daryl’s heart. Once again, he couldn’t help but imagine what could have happened. He’d never have stopped until he’d found Paul’s body and brought it back, Daryl was sure of that, no matter how long it took. He’d have found him and then he would have had to bury him, watching the rest of Hilltop mourn as his very world crumbled under his feet. 

Daryl still couldn’t honestly say if he’d have survived that.

Enid pulled away again after a moment, rubbing a hand over her eyes to scrub away a few stray tears, turning to Daryl and also pulling him into a quick hug. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispered into his ear, letting go too quick for him to do more than awkwardly pat her on the back.

“Anyway,” she said, clearing her throat, “it’s a good thing you’re back because now I don’t have to threaten Gregory in the dead of night.”

Fuck Daryl hated that little worm, he really did. He’d been quiet since the end of the war, still an uncomfortable presence around Hilltop, having to be taught how to actually do anything, but not outwardly causing trouble in a while. Still, he’d betrayed them all and Daryl wasn’t one to forget that, or to forgive it. His eternal annoyance was shared by Paul from the look on his face as he rolled his eyes to the heavens as though praying for patience. Daryl felt sure a bitch of a headache would be in Paul’s future.

“What’s he done now,” Paul all but groaned out, Daryl clearly hearing the ‘and what do I have to do about it’ that went unsaid.

Instead of joining their feelings of long suffering distaste, Enid actually looked concerned.

“Honestly, he’s just stirring up trouble, but I don’t like it. When Rick came back and said- well, that you were dead, everything went to shit here. Maggie and Daryl both vanished and the rest of Hilltop was just in mourning. People gathered together, drank to your memory and all that. Was horrible.”

Daryl wondered when any mention of what happened wouldn’t make his stomach plummet into his feet, heart racing, mind turning over the what ifs. Enid must have seen something on his face, shooting him an apologetic look before turning back to Paul. 

“Gregory appeared after a while, started talking to people, playing at mourning and reminiscing about the good old days when you and him ran Hilltop together. Then he started playing on people’s fear.”

Paul’s face twisted. “Fear?” 

“Yeah, fear. Rick said they were _talking_ _walkers_ , something like that spreads like wildfire. Everyone found out and the very idea of that and all it could mean was terrifying. And Jesus, everyone knows how good a fighter you are. We knew you’d stayed behind on purpose but still, if they could take _you_ out then what chance did the rest of us have. Gregory played on that.”

“Prick,” Paul muttered, Daryl seconding the sentiment. Thing was though, he could understand it, could absolutely get why the rest of them would be scared. If he hadn’t been so overwhelmed by grief, the idea of walkers somehow evolving would probably have put the fear of God into him too.

He could also deeply, truly understand the kind of uncertainty that Paul’s death at their hands would cause. Despite always doing his best to avoid killing, fighting to disarm or finding another way entirely, Daryl knew how deeply, deeply dangerous Paul was in a fight. Even after all these years, he was still sure he’d never seen the full extent of what Paul could do.

The people of Hilltop had known Paul longer than Daryl had. They’d seen him walk out of Hilltop on his own with nothing but his knives and his skills, vanishing into the world for days or sometimes even weeks at a time and coming back with things they needed, things nobody else would even dare try and get. One man doing runs for an entire community and doing it alone, always coming back no matter what was thrown at him.

Yeah, Paul might not realise it, but Daryl could fully understand why his death would terrify them, why it would build the whispering walkers up into an unbeatable boogie man the likes of which they hadn’t seen before. Even Negan was only human. 

“And... that’s not all.” Enid looked angry, well and truly pissed off for the first time in a while. She’d mellowed a lot in the last year, her anger and grief over everything that happened during the war finally burning away into something manageable. And ever since starting her medical training with Siddiq, she’d calmed even more. It was rare to see her so angry now.

“He also started planting doubt, started wondering if Maggie could do all this without you.”

“ _What_?”

“Yeah, I know. People were scared, grieving and he took advantage of that. Said that Maggie’s loyalty would always be with her family, with Rick and Alexandria before Hilltop and that it was _you_ that always made sure Hilltop and its people were put first.” 

“That’s bullshit!” 

Daryl couldn’t help but agree with Paul, feeling his outrage and returning it. He was absolutely aware of how much Paul did, probably more than anyone else, but there was no doubt in his mind that Maggie could handle anything thrown at her alone. And more than that, he knew Hilltop had her heart like Alexandria never did. She’d never do anything that would harm the community and every asshole here should damn well know that.

Paul exhaled with forced calm. “Okay, I need to go have a word with him then.”

“Yeah, probably a good idea,” Enid agreed with relief. “I’m just going to go down and see the girl now. Lydia right? Maggie said she wasn’t very trusting so I thought since we’re both girls and I’m probably closer to her age than anyone else here, I’d give it a try. Brought some clothes for her too.”

Daryl didn’t like the idea of Enid down there alone with her. He was almost positive Lydia wasn’t a direct threat, but he couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t see an opportunity to escape and take it, maybe hurting Enid in the process.

“I’ll stay,” he said, both Enid and Paul turning to look at him, “make sure the girl don’t try nothin’.”

“I think I’ll be fine Daryl.”

“‘M sure ya will. But if it were the other way ‘round and you were in some strange place, wouldn’t matter how nice the people seemed, you’d still try an’ escape right? She ain’t tied up now neither. Best to have some backup for now, just in case.”

Enid rolled her eyes but didn’t argue further. Damn teenagers. “Fine. Can I take the clothes down for her first though? I won’t unlock the cell, just push them through the bars and let her get changed.”

Daryl nodded, Enid leaving them both with a goodbye, slinging the bag over her shoulder and opening the cellar door, leaving him and Paul alone again.

“You’re such a mother bear you know that?”

“Fuck you Paul.”

Daryl felt his face warm up as he caught sight of the fond grin on Paul’s face, eyes bright and teasing, everything about him always setting Daryl’s nerves on fire. He shuffled a bit, bitting his thumb, unsure of how to part ways, unsure of what to do next at all. Was a goodbye enough? Should they make plans to meet up later? He wasn’t sure how to do this kind of stuff, _relationship_ stuff. What would need to change between them now? Would Paul even care what Daryl did?

“Hey,” Paul said, stepping closer to him, reaching out like it was the easiest thing in the world and taking hold of Daryl’s free hand, “what’re you thinking about? Can see the steam coming out of your ears.”

And just like that, the worry and the overthinking just... didn’t seem to matter anymore. Maybe it didn’t matter what ‘should’ be done, but what they wanted to do. Besides, they’d known each other for years, if Paul didn’t know him and how useless he was at emotions by now, then they were well and truly fucked. Paul wasn’t a picnic either on that front. Hell, maybe that was one of the reasons they just fit together so right. 

“Nothin’,” Daryl said finally, rubbing his thumb against the back of Paul’s hand, liking the way it made him smile.

“Okay then, if you’re sure. I best go find Gregory now. God I wish I could knock him out sometimes, I really do.”

“I ain’t gonna stop ya.” 

Paul grinned. “No I suppose you wouldn’t. Unfortunately, I really shouldn’t,” he said, letting go of Daryl’s hand with a squeeze and stepping away, pointing at his head as he walked backwards, “but I’ll be thinking about it. On replay! Wish me luck.”

“See ya later yeah?”

Paul stopped, smiling softly and nodding before turning and walking off towards the centre of Hilltop. Daryl watched him until he turned a corner and disappeared out of sight, lingering a second longer before he shook himself out of it and opened the cellar once again, descending back down into the darkness.

He could hear Enid talking before he quietly reached the bottom of the stairs, could even hear Lydia replying softly. He stayed out of sight, fully intending on just being a look out again, before he heard Enid call his name. Worry flaring in his stomach, he turned the corner and saw Enid sat on the floor beside the bars, Lydia now sat in some normal clothes with the god awful walker skin suit piled in the corner. The girl got one look at him and seemed to cower away.

“It’s okay Lydia, that’s just Daryl. He’s good, I promise.”

“Doesn’t look it.”

“Best mind your manners sunshine,” he grumbled, glaring at Enid when she laughed.

“Honest, he looks mean but he’s a pussycat really. He’s been tamed.”

Daryl met her shit eating grin with a look of absolute affront. “The hell I have!”

“Keep thinking that if it helps you sleep at night.”

He flipped her the bird, ignoring her continued grin before turning back to look at Lydia, seeing her watch them intensely, looking away quickly when he caught her eye. Daryl was still suspicious of her, not knowing what to make of her yet, unable to rightly say one way or the other if she was genuine or acting. Paul seemed to believe she was no threat, but Daryl would rather reserve judgment yet. He knew how easy it could be for people to hide behind a mask of helplessness, of fear, right up until they slit your throat with a grin.

Okay so maybe he was still angry at her over what her group did to Paul. Still, he tried to soften his face, not wanting to reverse all the progress Paul and Enid seemed to have made.

“What’s he doing here?” Lydia finally asked, still staring at him warily.

Enid turned back to her and smiled. “He’s just here to keep an eye on you while I’m here, but I thought he should say hi.”

“He was spying on me?!” 

“No, no!” Enid backtracked quickly. “He’s just protective about the people he cares about.”

“I’m still here ya know?” Daryl muttered, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall. “The fuck is with people today, good Lord.”

“You said _people_... was he here with the other guy too? Jesus?”

There was no point lying, not when it’d just make her trust him even less, so Daryl just nodded. Instead of making her even warier, she seemed to relax just a little.

“I like him. He’s nice.” 

Enid snickered, shooting Daryl a sidewards glance. “Yeah, Daryl likes him too.” 

Daryl spluttered, face burning as he aimed a gentle kick at Enid’s boot. Then he caught sight of Lydia’s raised eyebrows and small grin as she stared at him in interest, like she was in on the damn joke. Then her words sank in and sent anger rushing through him. Scared or not, Lydia could fuck off. In a split second, he no longer cared that she was a frightened kid, not really, not after what she did. If she was going to be here, she damn well better face what she was a part of.

“You like him now huh?” he ground out. “Good thing ya’ll didn’t manage to kill him then.”

“Daryl!” Enid hissed at him, shooting him a sidewards glare, just serving to make him more annoyed. Paul and Enid could pussyfoot around Lydia and the situation all they liked, but Daryl sure as hell wouldn’t. She was in the group that tried to kill Paul, that hurt him and nearly managed to drag him back to wherever the fuck they were based to hurt him even more. There was no fucking way he was forgetting that, feeling sick that he’d pushed it aside even for a moment.

Any of the previous ease and humour vanished from the girl, a flash of fear crossing her face before her shoulders just slumped as she looked at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, voice quiet. “I didn’t even know what was happening. It was my first outing so I kind of just... went along with everything. Like I’m s’posed to.”

Enid looked up at him quickly, jumping at the chance to find out more. “Why were you even after them in the first place. They didn’t do anything. _Jesus_ didn’t.” 

After a moments hesitation, Lydia spoke again. “They were trespassing. The first two. We don’t let anyone near our territory, we defend it. We followed them and they heard us whisper. So we had to kill them. They hid for a bit, but my hunting party tracked them, followed them. Then we saw two more come to rescue them, Jesus and the other man, the one who talked to me earlier. They were clean, well fed, we assumed they must have had a group, somewhere safe. And they had to be organised enough to know two of their own were missing and be able to send help for them.”

Daryl could hardly believe they were getting this kind of information out of her now, eagerly listening to every word. The thought that a group he’d hoped were nothing but mindless, raving freaks like the Wolves, were able to analyse them like that, chilled him to the bone. 

“We followed,” she continued flatly, “had to kill them all, we couldn’t let them return to their community. They’d speak about us, about walkers who could talk. More would come looking, maybe find us. We couldn’t risk that, we’re never supposed to risk that. We drew the dead, we were going to overrun you and let them devour you but then Jesus distracted them.”

She looked up and met Daryl’s eye, looking almost confused. “I watched him, he was willing to die to save them, to be torn to shreds for the rest to escape. I thought we’d let that happen but Joshu- the leader of our team, he wanted to bring him back. Get information. So we got him before the dead did. Saved him from them.” 

Daryl scoffed darkly. “Don’t mean shit,” he growled, “still would’a killed him after you was done with him. Would’a hurt him plenty before that too.” 

“I didn’t want to!” she said desperately. “I didn’t even know what was happening, I just did what I was supposed to. We have to survive, we’ve all done things to survive! My group, we’ve met bad people before, back when we were smaller. Bad things happened. But we learned! We adapted! We followed the animal’s ways, we defend our territory, we bite first! There- there isn’t any other way.” 

“Bullshit, there’s always another way! We ain’t doin’ that shit and we’re doin’ just fine.”

Lydia glared at him, seeming to find some of her fire again. “So you’ve never had to kill? Never had to do things, _horrible_ things, just to survive? To keep your people alive? Did your safety really get handed to you, or did you fight for it?”

“‘Course we did,” he spat back, “had to fight every step of the damn way! But we didn’t do it by actin’ like animals or worse, damn walkers! We fought, killed, died too, but we did it as _people_. And now we don’t have to, haven’t for a while. We got to stop killin’, even if some sure as fuck should’a died. Survivin’ is one thing, actually tryin’ to live is another. Seems you an’ yours ain’t figured that out yet.”

All the energy seemed to seep out of her then, slumping down into her seat, staring at her hands. “No, no we haven’t. But I _want_ to figure that out, even if the rest of them don’t. I don’t- I don’t like how they do things. Don’t like the things they do either. I’m... tired.” 

Lydia looked up, eyes honest and beseeching as she looked him in the eye, looking older than her sixteen years. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what we did, what I was a part of. I’m sorry we hurt Jesus. He didn’t deserve what would have happened to him. And... I hope you don’t ever run into my group again. You don’t deserve what might happen if you do.”

Unease settled deep in his stomach, sharing a quick look with Enid, looking equally as worried. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“My group, the Whisperers, they don’t take risks and they don’t forget. If you ever come across them again, you best be ready for a fight.”

She said it with the heavy weight of someone who knew something was inevitable but deeply hoped it wouldn’t be. Cool dread trickled down Daryl’s spine at their name, the Whisperers, remembering the sheer horror in Rick’s voice as he described them, the talking walkers. They were like something from a horror movie and as Daryl looked at Lydia, as he saw the darkness hiding behind her eyes, he somehow knew that they wouldn’t be getting out of this unscathed.

“Help! Someone get Siddiq!” 

Daryl’s head shot up at the unmistakable sound of Paul’s voice shouting across Hilltop, his heart dropping to his feet, nausea swelling as he met Enid’s wide eyes. He jumped to his feet, shouting at Enid to stay where she was and watch Lydia before he bounded up the stairs. 

What trouble could Paul have gotten into now? He better be okay, Daryl couldn’t survive another scare, not again.

 

———

 

Paul’s head was buzzing, too many thoughts and worries and feelings sparking through his brain. The small bit of information he’d gotten from Lydia, whilst still fairly useless, was enough to get his mind racing as he paired it with his own experiences with her group. They’d been organised, clever, using their world to their advantage, and utterly ruthless. Paul had a feeling that it would not be the last time he’d have to face them, have to fight them.

His shoulder hurt like a bitch, throbbing and aching with every movement he made, his thigh wound not fairing much better. It wasn’t enough to be distracting, not with the way he forcefully pushed it out of his mind, but it was enough to wear his patience down a touch. Enid’s rundown of Gregory’s latest bullshit wore it down even more, Paul practically able to taste the headache in his future once he’d tracked the spineless man down.

The only redeeming feature of his morning so far was Daryl. It was always Daryl. Waking up gently, with no sudden feeling of danger at someone being too close to his sleeping and vulnerable form, was strange but welcome. Then finding out that Daryl had been watching him breath, looking at him like his continued existence was the greatest blessing he could ever have received, was something Paul was still trying to process. 

He was fully aware that he’d not really allowed how close he’d come to death to hit him yet. It all happened so fast, the dead surrounding them, cutting them off and backing them into a corner. Paul had known that unless he acted, unless he caused a distraction, all of them would die. He’d had to try or he’d never have forgiven himself. He’d been fully prepared to die for them, even knowing it would kill Daryl, even as a selfish part of him wanted to run too, wanted to keep himself alive so he’d know what it felt like to hold Daryl properly, to kiss him, to get to love him in every way he could.

Paul hadn’t run though, he’d allowed the dead to follow him, still fighting even as he knew any second he’d feel teeth tear into his skin, constantly waiting for the agony that would signal the beginning of the end. And he had felt pain, right in his shoulder, but it hadn’t been the end and once he’d realised what was happening, a steely determination pushed all fear out of his mind and body, filling it instead with the absolute certainty that he would survive. Paul knew in his heart that he would make it back to Daryl, no matter what he had to do.

That determination was still there, still coating his bones, still lending him strength he didn’t know he had. Now though, it was about doing whatever was needed to keep them both alive, to keep _everyone_ alive, to deal with whatever hell might be coming for them and to beat it. He’d drag all of their people through whatever was to come with his own two hands if he had to, refusing to lose another fucking person.

Once he was done dealing with Gregory’s bullshit, he’d talk to Maggie, would ask her to call a cross community meeting. They all needed to be ready for this, working together from the start, preparing early in a way none of them ever got a chance to do with Negan. 

As he made his way through Hilltop, people continued to greet him and smile at him, the constant attention and affection he’d been receiving from them all since he made it back still overwhelming and jarring. It wasn’t unpleasant, just unexpected and it warmed him that he mattered to them at all. He still could hardly believe they’d all mourned him, that his ‘death’ had really affected them so much. It made him even angrier at Gregory for trying to take advantage of that.

He couldn’t see the man in question anywhere, certainly not in the gardens where he should have been working at this time of the day, eventually having to stop and ask people if they’d seen him. It took two tries before Betty told him she saw Gregory heading into Barrington after talking to Maggie. Paul thanked her and headed into the big house, ducking first into the kitchens just in case he was trying to steal away extra food or alcohol again but ultimately heading up to Maggie.

Paul was making his way down the hall when he heard commotion coming from her office, loud banging and then a single thud. His heart pounded as he sped the rest of the way, tearing the door open just in time to see Gregory standing over Maggie, her collapsed form too still on the floor, as he smugly proclaimed that everything was right with the world again.

Paul’s heart felt like it had stopped in his chest as he stared in horror at her unmoving body, praying to every god he’d ever heard of that she wasn’t dead, not her, not his _sister_. Then rage flooded through him, pushing out all rational thought as he all but leapt across the room, delivering a hard kick to Gregory’s back that sent him flying face first into Maggie’s desk.

Paul dropped to his knees next to Maggie, feeling like he was going to pass out as he checked her pulse, a moment of pure relief spreading through him as he finally felt it, erratic but there. 

“What the hell Jesus?! Why did you attack me?!”

Paul’s head snapped up, feeling pure, unadulterated hatred for the man in front of him. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” he shouted, his usual composure shot to shit as he carefully slid his arms behind Maggie’s knees and shoulders.

“I just found her like that, I was trying to help! She-“

“Shut the fuck up!” Paul spat, rising to his feet with Maggie in his arms. “If she dies, I’ll kill you myself!”

Shock spread all over Gregory’s bloody face. “She- she’s not dead?”

“You’re a fucking dead man,” he promised, meaning it in a way he never had before, feeling it down to his bones. Had his hands not been full holding Maggie, Paul couldn’t rightly say whether or not his knife wouldn’t already be buried in Gregory’s throat. It didn’t scare him as much as it should.

He heard a groan leave the woman he was cradling, Maggie struggling weakly, cracking open one bleary eye to stare up at him, her pupil huge. “No one’s killing... anyone,” she muttered.

“Maggie? Maggie hey, are you with me?”

She wasn’t, not all the way, but she nodded all the same. “Put me down.”

“No way, need to get you help!”

“I’m fine,” she panted shakily, “it didn’t work. Put me down and... call Siddiq. Make sure Gregory doesn’t... escape.”

She still sounded too far away for his liking, voice weak, eyes unfocused even as they tried to glare at him. Paul growled in frustration as he did what she said, gently settling her onto the sofa and rushing to the window, throwing it open and shouting for help, for someone to get Siddiq.

Then he turned his attention to Gregory, the snivelling man going white with terror as he pushed himself up and tried to run. Paul easily grabbed him by the hair and yanked him back, kicking his feet out from under him and sending him crashing face first to the ground. Paul wrenched his arm behind his back until Gregory cried out in pain, pushing it further until Maggie barked out, “Jesus!” 

He heard footsteps thundering down the hall, knowing exactly who would enter the room first, only looking up from Gregory’s squirming form as he heard Daryl call out his name, panic thick in his voice and all the more obvious on his face when Paul finally looked up at him. Somewhere under his anger and panic, Paul couldn’t help but feel a little bit horrified with himself, knowing in his gut that he had absolutely been about to purposefully dislocate Gregory’s shoulder. 

“Paul! The fuck’s happen- _Maggie_?!” 

Daryl finally caught sight of Maggie, pale, sweaty and half unconscious in her chair, rushing to her side to check on her, fear on his face as he checked her pulse and tried to talk to her.

Gregory continued struggling, fruitlessly kicking and wriggling around, yelling all sorts of bullshit as Paul pushed down on him harder. His shoulder was stabbing like a bastard but he couldn’t find it in himself to care just yet, heart still pounding, pumping anger and fear and hate through his whole body.

He looked around the room, eyes catching on Maggie’s favourite mug tipped over on her desk, dregs of tea spilling across the wood and onto the floor. Poison, of course it was, of course the fucking worm would resort to something so cowardly.

“What did you give her?” Paul hissed into Gregory’s ear. 

“Nothing! Jesus, you- you have no reason to suspect me!” he stammered thickly, blood spraying onto the floor from his busted nose. “This- this is- it’s ridiculous!” 

He let go of Gregory with one hand, grabbing his hair and slamming his head into the floor. “What did you fucking give her?!”

Gregory groaned under him, Paul distantly aware that he might actually be losing it a little. He was terrified that even if Maggie seemed to be regaining consciousness, it meant nothing, could just be her last hurrah before whatever that snivelling coward had put in her drink decided to take her away from him. He barely felt in control of his own body, panic and rage disconnecting him from it in a way that had only happened a few times during his life.

He’d always been scared of this, vividly remembering his talk with Daryl in the lookout of Barrington house. Paul had told him then how scared he was, how he had so much more to lose now, how he wasn’t sure what would happen to him if he lost any of the people he really, truly cared for. 

If Maggie died, he honestly didn’t know what he’d do.

“Paul? Hey, ya with me? Gonna have to get your knee of his back man, gonna stop him breathin’ if you carry on, then we ain’t gonna get nothin’ out of him.” 

Paul looked up from the back of Gregory’s balding head, right into Daryl’s eyes, the other man kneeling in front of them, hands up and open. Why wasn’t he with Maggie? He should be with her, making sure she was okay. Why was-

“Hey, it’s okay, look,” Daryl nodded his head to his left, drawing Paul’s attention to the commotion around Maggie. “Siddiq’s got her now, she’s gonna be fine. It’d speed things up if we knew what that piece of shit gave her but no matter what, she’s gonna be fine.”

Paul watched as Siddiq saw to Maggie, stethoscope out to check her heart, looking at her pupils, dealing with her calmly, no rushing, no panic, nothing in his actions to suggest that she was in imminent danger. He just barely managed to suppress the gasping sob that wanted to leave his chest, limbs going weak, knee slipping off Gregory’s back before the worm started gasping for air and coughing beneath him. Paul didn’t spare him a seconds notice, all his attention still on Maggie until he felt a hand on his uninjured shoulder.

Daryl was still right in front of him, eyes so full of worry as guilt hit Paul like a punch to the gut. If he’d just been quicker getting to her office, if he hadn’t stopped at the kitchens or let a few Hilltop residents express how glad they were he was still alive, then maybe he’d have been there in time to stop all this from happening.

And even worse, Gregory was always his unofficial problem, ever since the days when the weasel of a man was in charge. It had always been Paul dealing with him, weathering his shit attitude and ineptitude, talking him around to see sense or making him agree to something he didn’t want to do. After the war, he’d been the one to set Gregory up with work, to deal with his bitching until the man realised he was never getting out of it, that he’d have to join in with the rest of the plebeians or leave.

He should have seen this. How had he not? How had he missed that Gregory planned to murder Maggie?

“Come on Paul, need ya to get it together now. Come on back. Get this piece of shit locked up, then ya can see Maggie.”

Some of the fog in his head finally receded, nodding at Daryl, inhaling shakily before standing and pulling a swaying Gregory up with him. Paul shoved him into walking, stopping for a moment as he passed Maggie, just needing to see her. He breathed a sigh of relief, more of him settling back to what resembled normal as he saw her sitting up straighter and glaring at Gregory.

“You want to be leader of this community?” she croaked, utter contempt thick in her voice. “You can’t even poison someone right. Get him out of here.”

Paul nodded at her, feeling reassured enough to leave her in the capable hands of Siddiq. He still felt wrong, off balance and shaken, but he was coming back to himself now, pushing away the oncoming horror at his actions to deal with later. Paul kept tight hold of Gregory, pushing him through the doorway, feeling the weight of Daryl’s gaze on his back as the other man followed him, shutting Maggie’s door behind them.

“Where we puttin’ him huh?” Daryl asked as they moved down the corridor.

‘We’. Like Gregory was Daryl’s problem, his responsibility too.

“Can’t put him in the cells,” Paul answered, his brain finally coming back online enough to think. “The other cell still isn’t finished and I’m sure as fuck not putting him in with Lydia. He can go in the stables. As long as we put the grate up, he’s not getting out. I’ll organise a guard rotation for him.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. Piece of shit like him? The stables are the perfect place.”

They didn’t speak after that, pushing Gregory through Barrington and down the stairs, Paul only realising why the place hadn’t been crawling with people when he saw Alden and Eduardo keeping them out. He nodded his appreciation at them as he passed, ignoring the gasps of shock and the frantic questions that were thrown at them. Paul knew he’d need to come up with something, a statement to give them, something to calm them down until Maggie could speak for herself. Fuck he hoped his face wasn’t showing what he was actually feeling for once. 

Gregory tried to protest as they took him to the stables until Daryl reached over and cuffed him around the head, growling for him to shut the fuck up. They took him to the last stall, Daryl checking there was nothing inside but hay and the strong smell of horse shit, pushing him inside and securing the gate and wooden door. Daryl gave it a good tug and shove but it didn’t budge, Earl always delivering beautifully on everything he made, both the gate and wooden door below it built to withstand the kicks of any pissed off horses.

“Jesus, please!” Gregory shouted desperately, hands holding the metal bars as he pushed his sallow face closer, eyes wide in panic. ”This is- it’s ridiculous, it’s wrong! You can’t leave me here like this! You- you have no proof I did anything! I wouldn’t! You know me Jesus, all those years working together!”

Paul stormed over to the door, Gregory letting go and stepping back so quickly he tripped over his feet and landed on the floor. 

“Yes,” Paul hissed lowly, “I _do_ know you Gregory. You’re a coward and a liar. You’re power hungry and angry that Maggie took over, doing a better job than you ever could. I should have fucking known you hadn’t got over it! But for a while there, I actually thought you’d changed, thought you’d realised you were fucking lucky to get to be a part of this place. I should have seen it.” 

He could feel his tentatively held together composure about to snap once more, too much anger, left over fear and adrenaline coursing through his body. He forced himself to step back, looking down at Gregory with disgust.

“You tried to kill Maggie. You offered her a drink that you’d poisoned, right? Then you stood over her and waited for her to die. What was your plan after that huh? You can’t honestly think anyone here would have let you lead again? Would have _wanted_ you to? I don’t know how to break this to you Gregory, but there isn’t a single person here who even likes you, let alone who would vote for you as leader!”

Paul felt a hand settle low on the base of his back, grounding him better than anything else could, forcing him to take a deep breath and calm down.

“What did ya give her huh?” Daryl growled out. “Tell us now and maybe things won’t get so bad for ya. Gets awful cold out here at night, you’re gonna want a blanket if ya want’a keep your toes.”

Paul knew it wasn’t going to get that cold, just as Daryl did, but Gregory would buy that in a heartbeat, already shivering in the exposed stall. He didn’t answer straight away, but after a bit more prompting and subtle threats from Daryl, backed up with the truly murderous expression Paul was sure he had on his face, Gregory caved.

Oxycodone, that’s what he’d used. The fucking expired stuff in the medical trailer. They were lucky in that, Paul supposed, Gregory just hoping that opening a few and pouring the powder into her drink would work. Thank fuck for his ineptitude.

They left him as soon as he’d told them, Paul not even wanting to waste his breath on any final threatening words. Gregory would get what was coming to him, he was sure of that and for once, he didn’t dread whatever that might be. Paul realised in some distant way that a line had been crossed today, that a particular limit he’d always placed on himself had been broken. He wasn’t sure what he felt about that, pushing it to the side to deal with later.

Daryl was silent as he walked a step behind him, Paul feeling his eyes on him like a physical weight as they headed back into Barrington house and made their way up to Maggie’s bedroom. Paul knocked on the door gently, trying to get himself together before he opened it at Maggie’s say so. 

She was propped up in bed, Enid now next to her and holding her hand. Maggie looked pale, tired and shaken, but still smiling softly when she saw them, ushering them inside. Daryl moved passed him then, going over to her free side and leaning over, kissing her roughly on the forehead. They were talking but Paul wasn’t listening, too focused on watching Maggie, trying to imprint in his mind that she was alive and okay.

He came so close to losing her today. His hands were shaking, quickly moving them behind his back to hide it, ignoring the stabbing pain in his shoulder at the movement as he clasped his hands tight together. 

“Hey, Jesus, come here.”

Paul focused again at her words, legs feeling too weak as he made his way slowly over to her. This close, he could see the light sheen of clammy sweat on her skin, the dark circles under her eyes, all too obvious on her pale skin. If only he’d been quicker getting there, if only he’d not focused on what he wanted and kept a better eye on Gregory. He should have-

“Can you guys give us a minute?” Maggie asked of Daryl and Enid, both of them looking between Maggie and Paul before they nodded. Daryl pulled her into a hug before he left, speaking lowly into her ear before he and Enid left the room.

The door shut and silence fell. Paul didn’t move, didn’t speak, just stayed standing, avoided Maggie’s eye as he tried not to show how bad he was shaking. 

“Jesus? Stop bein’ stupid and come here.”

Paul hesitated for a moment before he lurched forward, sitting himself down slowly in the chair next to her bed, absolute exhaustion hitting him, even as the electric current of anxiety and blame continued to run through him. He felt like he was holding himself together with sheer force of will, too many thoughts and emotions raging behind the rigid calm he’d now pulled on like an ill fitting jumper. He’d already shown himself up by losing his shit so completely with Gregory, shame joining the dog pile of emotions at the thought of Maggie seeing him nearly dislocate a cowering old man’s shoulder.

Maggie continued to just watch him so Paul forced a smile on his face, not wanting her to have to deal with his mental fucking breakdown on top of her own issues. 

“How’re you feeling Maggie?” he asked, his voice only shaking a little. “I assume Siddiq cleared you? We know what was in your drink now, Daryl’s probably letting him know in case he needs to do anything else for you. Everything’s under control around Hilltop, so just focus on feeling better yeah?”

Maggie continued to stare him out, eyes steely and piercing.

“You’re so full of shit Jesus, you know that?” 

“Huh?”

“Don’t even try that with me,” she scolded, “I know you now, I can tell you’re rattled under all that bullshit.”

Paul felt like he’d been smacked, but there was a part of him that felt relieved he didn’t have to guard it so fiercely. Maybe he could relax just a touch, could actually be real with her right now. He exhaled shakily, slumping into his seat, taking the hand she held out to him, gripping her small hand tight in his. 

“Scared me,” he muttered at last, “seeing you like that. Thought you were dead Maggie, I really did. I’m so sorry, I should have kept a better eye on him. Should have realised he could do something like this.” 

“Hey,” she squeezed his hand and made him look at her, “it wasn’t your fault, okay? It wasn’t. I think the only reason he even tried this is because he thought you were dead. He started putting it into place that night, after Rick came and told us. As soon as I went to my room, he started spreading shit, stirring up trouble and worry with everyone.” 

Paul nodded. “Yeah I know, Enid told me. It’s why I came here at all, I was looking for him. Wanted to get him to stop.”

“Well,” she began with a deep sigh, “that wasn’t everything. He came to me, after- after they went to find your body. I’d been in my room, just... mourning, crying, trying to figure out what would happen next, with everything. I was heartbroken over you and terrified for Daryl. You never saw him. I honestly thought we’d lose him for good once he brought your body back.”

The weight behind her words as she looked him dead in the eye was almost too much to stand, his heartbeat racing and mind going blank. 

“I sent Dante to get Carol as soon as Daryl left you know?” she continued. “I’d asked him, that night we were in your trailer, if he wanted me to but he didn’t know. I did it anyway. If anyone could... well, keep him from doing something stupid, it’d be her.”

Her words struck him deeper than any knife ever could. Paul wasn’t stupid, he knew his ‘death’ would have hit Daryl badly, could see it in his eyes as they stood with weapons raised at each other before it clicked for Daryl that it really was Paul in front of him. He could certainly feel it in the desperate way he’d clutched Paul to him and the way he’d looked at him like Paul might vanish at any moment. She was right though, maybe he hadn’t seen Daryl at his worst. Maybe he hadn’t realised, or let himself realise, just what it had done to him. The very thought chilled him to the bone.

“So yeah, I was messed up. And then in comes Gregory!” 

She scoffed in disgust. “He played it up well, made out he was grieving too. Said even when you didn’t always agree, he knew you were a good man, that you kept the place going when he was leader. He- he also said you always wanted to protect me, to look after me and support me in all of this.”

She broke off with a hollow laugh. “Honestly, if I didn’t hate his guts too much to show it, I swear I’d have broken down again right then and there. He apologised for the past and said he felt like he had to make up for it, to do what you did for me, in your honour. Which is why he wanted to let me know what was being said around Hilltop.”

The anger was back thank God, replacing the aching sadness that had stained her face and words, making his heart throb painfully in his chest.

“If I wasn’t so distracted I’d have noticed it, but at the time I didn’t. I was grieving and he took advantage of it. He told me the people were worried about what would happen next, that a few of them were concerned about me being able to lead without you. I told him I was grieving but that wouldn’t change whether I could lead or not. I did it after- after _Glenn_ for fucks sake. He said that wasn’t exactly what they meant. Fed me this bullshit about how they all knew you’d done what you could to guide Gregory when he was in charge, that you practically ran the place behind his back, so they thought you were doing the same for me.”

Paul was stunned and if it wasn’t for the fact he knew it was all bullshit and that nobody had said anything of the sort, he’d be storming through Hilltop right now putting that nonsense to bed. Sure he helped out but there truly was nothing Maggie couldn’t handle, couldn’t do all alone if she had to. The thought of anything else was almost hilarious. 

“I was hurt and pissed off, but I told him I’d deal with it, go talk to them and put their minds at rest. Gregory said he could arrange a meeting since he knew who the main instigators of the gossip was. I agreed and he left. Then a few hours later, _you_ swanned in and I forgot everything else. But just after you headed down to Lydia this morning, he came up to me and asked if I still wanted that meeting, just to make sure nothing like this would happen again. I said why not and that he should tell them to meet me in my office in a few minutes.”

She scoffed self deprecatingly. “Should have picked up something was wrong when he came alone. He just said they were coming and he thought I might like some tea before it started. I drank it, started to just feel _wrong_ and collapsed. I was barely conscious but I could still hear him gloating, saying I was never meant to have been leader, that all was right with the world now. Then you were there and I knew I was safe.”

Paul let out a calm, severely controlled breath as he mulled it all over in his head. Gregory must have decided to go ahead with it even if he was there, not wanting to miss his opportunity. If Gregory had been cleverer, had used different drugs or more of them, Maggie would have died. He’d have found her dead on the floor of her office. Hershel would have been an orphan, Daryl would have lost more family, Hilltop a leader, this whole new world would have suffered that loss.

Paul would have-

The hand in his squeezed tighter. “I’m fine. It didn’t work Jesus. It’ll take a lot more than that spineless prick to take me down. You can stop blaming yourself and breathe now, okay?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, before he guiltily met her eyes again.

“I was so angry Mags,” he breathed out, “I was really going to hurt him. I haven’t felt like that in years. If you were dead, I’d have killed him without hesitation, right then and there. And even as it stands now...”

Maggie sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I know. We’ll have to talk about that soon, about what we’re going to do with him. But not today, he can keep till tomorrow. What you need to do now is get outta my room and go stop Daryl worryin’ himself into an early grave.” 

Paul smiled softly at the mention of Daryl’s name. “Yeah, I’ll tell him you’re nearly back to your old self already.”

Maggie just rolled her eyes. “He’s not worrying about _me_ you oblivious idiot! Get out and send Enid back in. Honestly.”

With one last hug, Paul finally made himself leave. He still felt the dull residue of utter terror coating his nerves, but was satisfied at least that Maggie would be absolutely fine. Once back in the hallway, Paul immediately saw Daryl sitting on the floor a few paces away, looking up as the door shut behind Paul.

He wondered if there would ever be a time when Daryl’s eyes meeting his wouldn’t send electric shocks through his whole body.

Daryl pushed himself up to standing as Paul walked over, looking him over with a frown. “Maggie doin’ okay? Just let Siddiq know what it was. He said what he done would be fine. She don’t need anythin’ else but more rest.”

Paul nodded, managing a weak smile. “Yeah she’s good, already back to bossing me around.”

“‘S what sisters are for right?” 

It was a mark of how truly fucked up the past few days had been that those words brought tears to his eyes and lump to his throat. God his emotions were all over. 

Paul cleared his throat and ducked his head a little to blink them away, hoping Daryl hadn’t seen but knowing he had when a rough hand awkwardly reached out to grab his. He was still so hesitant, like Daryl wasn’t sure if he could. Paul ran a thumb over the back of Daryl’s hand, returning the squeeze the other man gave his. 

“You doin’ okay now?”

Paul had to swallow around his tight throat again at the level of understanding, care and concern in Daryl’s rough voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he finally said, smiling weakly at Daryl, wanting nothing more than to pull him into a hug and never let go. He sighed at the reality of how he’d actually be spending the rest of his day. “Got a lot of stuff to sort out though. What a fucking mess.”

“Hell nah, that can wait. You need Siddiq first.”

Paul looked at him in confusion. “Err, why? Has he got instructions for me or something?”

The look he got in return could have spoiled milk. “No, ‘cause you’ve gone an’ torn ya fuckin’ stitches, that’s why.”

Paul looked down at his shoulder, free hand coming up to touch the damp, blood stained fabric of his shirt. Oh, so that’s where the pain had come from. He hadn’t even noticed.

“Surprised you didn’t make me go straight away,” he mumbled absently, tugging the bloody fabric away from the wound.

“Ya needed to talk to Maggie, get it straight that she’s okay. Ya weren’t all here and I know that feelin’. Needed to get settled first.”

Paul looked up at him again, struck with the most overwhelming wave of love for Daryl. It was still so strange, even after all their years of being friends and then existing in that space between friends and _more_ , for Paul to have someone who knew him so well, loved him so well. Daryl saw what he needed and made sure he could have it, could get his right mind back again. 

Paul had never know anything like it before, never had someone so bothered about him and his wellbeing.

He’d always moved around once he left the group home, always happy to pick up sticks and move on at any point. Sure, sometimes he’d meet people that almost made him want to stay, almost made him believe he could feel happy and settled somewhere. It never lasted though and it never made him stay, something in him always knowing that wherever he went, he could meet a hundred other versions of that person.

But wasn’t that just the thing with Daryl Dixon. Paul knew that no matter where he went in life, whether it was this word or the old one, he’d never meet another person like Daryl. 

Fuck it. Paul gently tugged Daryl in by their joined hands, letting go only to wrap his arms around him, Daryl doing the same. Paul exhaled, finally feeling a measure of peace come over him in Daryl’s arms, with his warmth all around him and his breath against his neck.

“Thanks Daryl,” he exhaled, feeling warm down to his bones when Daryl cupped the back of his neck, his spine turning to rubber as he moved his thumb over the sensitive skin almost absentmindedly.

“Don’t gotta thank me,” Daryl mumbled against his neck, “want ya to be okay. Always.”

It was at that exact moment that something long cracked and jagged in Paul healed over. No matter what was to come, either with Gregory or Lydia’s group or anything else the world might throw at them, Paul knew he’d face it with Daryl by his side. He wasn’t alone anymore and neither was Daryl. 

Pulling back enough to look at Daryl, seeing his eyes open slowly to look at Paul, he felt his heart swell with so much love it fucking hurt. Then he saw Daryl’s eyes flick quickly down to Paul’s lips and back. A shiver ran down his spine, Paul just knowing he was finally going to kiss him. Slowly, with enough warning for Daryl to back off if he wanted, Paul leant forward and gently pressed his lips to Daryl’s.

It was so soft, so simple and unhurried, Daryl hesitating for just a moment before all but melting into it, the hand still at the back of Paul’s neck tightening just a touch.

Kissing was nothing new to Paul, but as Daryl relaxed into it and kissed back, he finally knew what it was _supposed_ to feel like. It’d always been like that with Daryl; Paul always discovering he’d only had the faintest taste of what a friendship was like, what falling for someone was like, what just being with someone was like. With Daryl, everything was like finally seeing colour after a life of blacks and whites and greys. 

He could have stayed there forever if it wasn’t for a quiet exclamation of surprise from behind them. They broke apart and turned around to see Enid standing in the middle of the hall holding a tray of food and tea, the surprise on her face quickly melting into a look of absolute joy.

“Sorry to interrupt!” she said, grin growing larger on her face as she moved around them. “Don’t mind me, just bringing this to Maggie. Enjoy!”

She opened the door at the end of the hall and shut it quickly behind her, leaving them both in enough silence to hear the honest to God squeal of two women seep through the door.

Scoffing in amusement at their antics, Paul turned to look at Daryl, taking in his red cheeks with absolute delight. And as Daryl met his eye, a soft smile spreading over his face that for once he didn’t duck his head to try and hide, Paul knew everything was okay between them, was right in a way that steadied him despite the upheaval of their world.

“Wipe that damn smile of ya face,” Dary grumbled, rolling his eyes and blushing harder as Paul smiled wider, feeling like he’d burst from all the love in him.

There were dark clouds on the horizon, there were worries and fears and so many ways that everything they’d all achieved could be destroyed. But Paul knew he was going to be there to fight it back with everything he had and he knew he wouldn’t be doing it alone.


	2. Chapter 2

*trigger warning in end notes*

Daryl wasn’t entirely sure how he got from the hallway of Barrington into the medical trailer. Apparently his memory had gone fuzzy, completely overtaken with remembering and analysing and replaying every single second of what just happened. The kiss. _The_ kiss.

Because it was really, it was something so new and so desperate longed for that he could hardly believe it was real, that it actually happened. He’d never seen what was so special about kissing before, but after that, he finally understood why. It was just so damn _perfect_. He’d wanted it so much, been wondering when it would happen, what it would be like, worrying if he’d fuck it up or something. In the end, it just worked out, like it happened exactly when it was meant to, exactly how it was meant to.

Though he could have stood for Enid not interrupting, but such was life. Still, he thought as he stared at a shirtless Paul being restitched by Siddiq, there would be plenty more opportunities. 

“Honestly Jesus,” Siddiq continued, having been chewing Paul out since he first arrived at the medical trailer, “you really need to take better care of yourself. Shoulder wounds are nasty, if this keeps opening, there’s a good chance it’ll get infected. It’s a miracle you’ve avoided that so far!”

“I know Siddiq, I know. I’ll take better care from now on.”

“You should be completely resting in fact!” Siddiq broke off with a sigh. “Is there any point getting you a sling to keep it still?”

Paul looked at him ruefully. “Erm, probably not?”

Daryl couldn’t help but snort, making them both look over at him. “What? We all know he ain’t gonna keep still.”

Paul grinned at him as Siddiq just sighed deeply and shook his head. They chatted together quietly, Paul never even wincing as the needle sewed up his shoulder. Surprisingly enough, that wasn’t what Daryl was focusing on. It should be, the fact that Paul had not only been stabbed but gone and fucking torn his stitches so soon after. That should really, _really_ be the thing Daryl was focusing on.

He should absolutely _not_ be stood there with a steadily heating face, unashamedly gawping at Paul topless.

Maybe it was because of the kiss still so fresh in his mind, the feeling of Paul’s lips against his, the slight rasp of his beard that sent a shiver down his spine just at the memory of it. It was like Daryl’s mind was stuck bouncing between that memory and the sight of his bare arms and shoulders, his trim waist and toned chest. Fucking abs that made his brain short circuit.

“Daryl? Earth to Daryl?”

He snapped out of it, feeling his face get redder as he took in the fact that Siddiq had obviously been trying to talk to him as he’d been eyeing up Paul. The knowing smirk on Paul’s face honestly made him want to find a nice hole to curl up in and die. Smug prick.

“What?” he growled out, trying unsuccessfully to cover his mortification with a glare. Siddiq was obviously a far better human being than Paul as he mercifully ignored what he’d caught Daryl doing, moving on without even a smirk or a knowing look. Daryl always knew he was a good man.

“Jesus will ignore me like it’s an Olympic sport, but he really needs to not be tearing these stitches out again. He’s lucky that knife didn’t cause any more damage but it still needs rest to heal properly. So no climbing, no fighting, no using it more than is needed. Also, pain meds are there for a reason, make him use them if he needs them.”

“Wow, am I a kid again or what?” Paul grumbled.

“No, you’re a doctor’s worst nightmare. Now get going before I tell Daryl any more things he shouldn’t let you do.”

Paul grinned wickedly at Siddiq’s threat, all but jumping to his feet as he carefully pulled his shirt back on. “My other arm works just fine Daryl, don’t you worry.”

The implication hit both Daryl and Siddiq at the same moment, the latter throwing his hands up with a loud “nope” and retreating further into the trailer as Daryl’s face reached new levels of heat. He grabbed a grinning, utterly delighted Paul by his uninjured arm and shoved him out of the trailer door.

Though he’d honestly rather die than admit it, exiting the medical trailer into the cool evening air, was desperately needed. The past ten minutes or so had firmly cemented in Daryl the belief that not only was Paul absolutely evil, but some people should just not be allowed to sit around topless. Or stand around topless. Or honestly, do anything topless.

Well, no. _Some_ things they could do topless...

“You doing okay Daryl?” Paul asked innocently. “You’re looking a bit... flushed.”

“Shut the fuck up Paul.”

The snicker that followed Daryl’s response should not be endearing, it really shouldn’t.

Paul’s amusement didn’t last long, a small groan leaving him as he saw the mass of Hilltop residents huddled around the front of Barrington house.

“Better go deal with them, they won’t leave otherwise.”

“What’re ya gonna tell ‘em?”

Paul sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and looking so tired that Daryl wanted to tell everyone to fuck off and let the man sleep. “Just the truth for now. Maggie can speak to them properly tomorrow but I can’t let them spend the night making up their own stories of what happened. Better to get this over with.”

Daryl watched as the ‘Jesus’ face appeared, Paul walking towards the huddle of people who’d begun to notice him.

Daryl would never stop feeing like somebody who’d snuck behind the magicians curtain when he watched Paul do that, knowing that he’d rather be anywhere else, marvelling at how he’d sigh just a tiny bit before pulling on the facade of somebody with infinite patience for all this bullshit. Any trace of exhaustion or pain or reluctance was wiped off his face in a second, leaving nothing but a placid calm.

It almost made Daryl want to poke him until the _real_ Paul came back.

“Alright everyone,” he began upon reaching Barrington house, the crowd going still and silent the moment he opened his mouth, “I know how confusing this must be right now, so I’m just going to clarify a few things until Maggie can speak to you all tomorrow.”

No matter how many times Paul argued that he wasn’t leader material, he sure fucking looked like he was to Daryl. There was just something about Paul, something that made you want to listen to him, to watch him, to _trust_ in him. Even after tricking them, robbing them blind, contributing to a truck of supplies ending up in a lake and later escaping from a third floor window to sneak around Alexandria, Daryl still wasn’t able to stop himself staring at Paul in that kitchen, to stop listening to his every word.

He’d felt so odd then, like electricity was passing under his skin, wanting to be closer to that tricky little stranger and wanting to run as far away as he could at the same time. Whenever Paul had turned his attention directly on Daryl, pinning him with those damn eyes, Daryl almost wanted to do anything to stop him from looking away, all but jumping at the chance to offer a deal, even as he knew it wasn’t his place.

Now of course, he understood his own particular fascination with Paul; it must have been their souls recognising each other.

Looking out at the crowd of Hilltop residents that had gathered before Paul like schoolchildren, Daryl saw worry and confusion on their faces but underneath that, absolute trust.

“So, I’m sure many of you are aware by now that not too long ago, I escorted Gregory away to be locked up. The reason for this, I’m sorry to say, is that he tried to murder Maggie.”

A gasp went through the crowd, chatter slowly rising, a few people shouting out questions. They all fell silent again as Paul raised his hand.

“I know, I’m as shocked as you are. We all thought this was behind us, that Gregory had become a part of this community. We gave him a chance after he betrayed us to Negan and we thought he’d honoured that. However, it seems he was just biding his time, waiting for the opportunity to take back control of this community or perhaps, to simply take revenge on the person he believes took it away from him.”

The crowd was fully under Paul’s control, his words even and solid, nothing to betray how utterly shaken to his core he’d been by the entire experience.

“After my supposed death, he moved through you all spreading fear and uncertainty and then he did the same to Maggie, filling her ear with false comments of how you all don’t believe in her leadership. He organised a fake meeting this morning between her and a few representatives of Hilltop to talk over these concerns. Instead, he met with her alone, poisoned her tea and watched as she collapsed. I arrived in time to see this with my own eyes before I incapacitated him.”

“Is she okay?!”

Paul nodded, the first sign of his real emotions just poking through in his relief. “Yes, thank God. Siddiq treated her and now she’s resting. She’ll talk to you all tomorrow I’m sure, but what she needs now is quiet and rest. Gregory is currently locked up under guard and will remain that way until his punishment has been decided. We’ve never had to deal with this before, with such an underhanded act. He tried to murder our leader in cold blood. He’d have let a young child become an orphan, would have watched this community lose a leader and a beloved friend. Then, I’m sure, he would have attempted to take over again. These actions deserve punishment.”

He paused, allowing his words to sink in, Daryl watching the faces of the crowd and seeing horror and anger and agreement. There didn’t look to be a single person loyal to Gregory or feeling anything but disgust towards him.

“I know we’re all uncertain right now, scared even. We’ve learned of a potential new threat and none of us knows what will happen next. And in the midst of that, one of our own has committed these despicable acts. But this isn’t the time to let that fear take over us. We must all pull together again now, to help and be there for each other no matter what’s to come. I know this community, I know each and every one of you. And I know we’ll get through whatever might happen, just as we always have.”

Paul finished with a nod and a smile, signalling the end of his little speech, the crowd beginning to disperse not long after, chatting uneasily amongst themselves. From what Daryl could overhear, there was no doubt as to Gregory’s guilt, no sympathy for him or the barest hints that they believed he was treated unfairly. Daryl realised that Paul had intended that, had gently lead the people of Hilltop into not questioning Gregory’s guilt for a second, subtly stoking their anger for him, underlining the fact that the man had to be punished.

He was setting up the dominoes, making sure that when Maggie was ready, she could knock them down however she pleased and face no opposition.

It was just another one of those bizarre moments when Daryl remembered just how much was hiding underneath Paul Rovia’s skin. It was almost comforting once the crowd fully left and he watched him slump ever so slightly, prompting Daryl to move next to him.

“Good job,” he murmured lowly, feeling warm all over when Paul leaned against him, like Daryl was giving him strength or support. Whatever he needed, he could take.

“Hope it was enough for now. Punishment will be coming for Gregory, and I don’t want a single person on his side when it hits.”

Paul’s tone was dark and heavy, eyes shadowed when Daryl shot a glance at his face. He remembered running into Maggie’s office and seeing Paul with a knee on Gregory’s back, twisting his arm up like he was about to snap it. Daryl had always been aware that Paul was capable of so much more than he let on, always trying to avoid a fight or causing any pain at all if he could. Looking at him in that moment though, Daryl was sure Paul could have snapped Gregory’s neck right then and there given the chance.

There was shame mixed with that anger now though, it was obvious to Daryl in the set of Paul’s shoulders, in the way his left hand kept clenching and unclenching. Daryl knew it must be eating at him something awful.

“You okay? Ya look tired.”

Paul looked at him and smiled, exhaustion clear on his face. “I’m fine. Well, no, I _am_ tired but my brain just keeps running in circles.”

“Come on, let’s go back to the trailer. Ya need to sleep.”

Paul’s tired eyes glistened with glee. “Mr Dixon! Are you trying to get me into bed?!”

Daryl felt his face heat up, shoving Paul with his elbow, trying and failing to hide the small smile that Paul always seemed to be able to get out of him. “Shut the fuck up, ya know what I mean. Pest.”

Paul smiled back, reaching out as easy as anything to grab Daryl’s arm and pull him back into his side, reaching around Daryl’s waist and holding tight. Daryl startled for a second, before he relaxed, gently settling his arm around Paul’s shoulders, the two of them standing together watching over Hilltop as the fading evening light cast a deep gold over everything.

It was moments like that where it was hard to believe anything bad was happening in the world, moments so simple and so perfect that Daryl wanted to tattoo them onto the inside of his skull so he never forgot them, so he could live in them when things turned bad. He held Paul tighter, fighting off a shiver at the dark unease hovering in the corner of his mind, just waiting to break through this tiny moment of peace.

They stayed there for a few moments longer, breathing in sync, Daryl half sure that even their heartbeats matched. Too soon, Paul sighed and reality appeared once more.

“As much as I’d love to head back to the trailer right now, I should go visit Lydia, take her some dinner. I’d promised her food earlier but in all the chaos, it kind of slipped my mind. I don’t want her to think I’d break a promise so small as that.”

Daryl hmm’d in agreement, regretfully letting his arm fall from around Paul’s shoulders, trying not to shiver at the slow, gentle drag of Paul’s hand across his lower back as he too let go and stepped away.

“Want to come with me?” Paul asked with a smile. “Stand around the corner like my over protective guardian angel again?”

Daryl flipped him the bird before shaking his head. “Nah, no point now, we already met. Enid made me come say hi.”

Paul looked interested. “You talked to her? What happened?”

Deciding to completely gloss over the chewing out her gave her, Daryl just shrugged. “Nothin’ much but we got some more information outta her. They call ‘emselves the Whisperers, got a leader and territory too.”

He gave Paul a basic rundown of what Lydia had told them, watching him grow more and more concerned.

“So what do you think?” he asked once Daryl had finished.

“Ain’t sure yet. Either she’s a great bullshitter or she really don’t agree with what they did. Or what they do. She parrots back their shit like it’s been drilled into her, but when she talks I can tell she don’t buy it, not totally. Said herself she want’s to be different. Her group though, they don’t sound good.”

Paul nodded, face serious as he thought over what he’d learned. “They worry me too. And I can’t be sure yet, not until I’ve talked to her more, but I don’t think Lydia is a threat at all. We need to talk to Maggie about a long term solution for her.”

They were quiet for a moment, both stood together and thinking their thoughts until Daryl nudged him gently. “She was real sorry ‘bout what happened to ya. Said she didn’t want to.”

Paul turned to him with a wry grin. “And was she sorry before or after you gave her some kind of verbal asskicking?”

“The fuck? When did Enid tell ya?”

“Oh she didn’t have to, I just know you too well.”

Daryl ducked his head. “Yeah well, girl gotta face what she was a part of. What she would’a helped with or watched done to ya just ‘cause she was goin’ along with it. Gotta learn she has’ta stand for herself, decide what’s wrong or right.”

He shuffled awkwardly under Paul’s fond gaze. “Honestly, was still just kinda pissed at her over it all and the rest are dead so...”

“So she got the brunt of it?”

Daryl shrugged, looking up once Paul nudged him gently.

“Well you might as well come along anyway then, since you both know each other now. Help me figure out if she really is a threat or not. I don’t think so, but there’s too much at stake here to risk it.”

Daryl agreed, not just because it made sense but also because Paul actually wanted him to be there. He could easily figure her out on their own and they both knew it, but for some reason he wanted Daryl with him.

Paul smiled and lead them both to the kitchens, Paul being one of the very few people in Hilltop that could get away with poking around as the cooks prepared dinner. Daryl just stood back and watched with amusement as Paul tried to put together a bit of dinner for Lydia whilst fielding hugs and questions and cookies being pushed on him. Paul was a much loved presence in the kitchens, always happy to stay and have a chat whilst helping peel vegetables or knead bread.

He finally managed to pull himself away and they were able to make their escape but not before Daryl was handed a single cookie with a warning to “look after that boy, ya hear me?”. The look that accompanied it promised a world of pain if he didn’t and looking at the three old girls, Daryl damn well believed they’d deliver.

They walked together through the evening air, watching the people of Hilltop milling around, setting up the dining tables and relaxing after a long day of work. Daryl half expected for Paul to be accosted with more questions but for now they managed to slip by unnoticed, opening the cellar door and making their way down inside.

Lydia pushed herself quickly off the floor as they came in, almost looking relieved as her eyes landed on Paul.

“Hello again Lydia, how’re you?”

“I’m err, I’m okay. What happened before? You shouted for help.”

Daryl hadn’t even thought about what to tell her, completely forgetting she’d even heard it in all honesty. Paul didn’t seem fazed though, just smiling at her as he unlocked her cell door and stepped inside, Daryl following behind and standing in front of the gap.

“We had a situation but it’s under control now,” Paul answered. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

She looked like she wanted to disagree, opening her mouth to ask more but Paul just held out the tray of food with a smile.

“I’m sorry this took so long to bring you,” he said, effortlessly moving on, always seeming to be able to steer any conversation without the other person ever really knowing.

She reached out slowly and accepted it, moving to sit back down on the chair still in the middle of her cell.

“That’s okay,” she answered quietly, “I don’t mind. I’m used to it. We don’t eat every day anyway. Our hunger is a gift.”

There she was again, back with the weird bullshit and the ‘we’. She always said it with a certain tone, like it’d been drilled into her head that they weren’t individuals, they were all just part of this ‘ _we_ ’.

“Well luckily, it’s not like that here. Not anymore. We have food and we’ll make sure you’re fed properly.”

She hesitated for a second before nodding and digging into her food with incredible gusto for someone who’d bold faced said ‘our hunger is a gift’ not two seconds before. He understood that though, too many memories surfacing of being at school before he stopped going, some teacher or kind lunch lady commenting on why he never had lunch money or brought any food of his own.

He’d always tell them he just wasn’t hungry, no matter how many hours or hell, sometimes even days, since he’d last eaten properly. Occasionally they’d give him something anyway and even the pity in their eyes couldn’t stop him wolfing it down.

“What’d ya’ll do for food anyhow?” Daryl asked as she was finishing up her dinner.

“The land provides,” she intoned, “we find berries and fruit, crops that grew wild. Hunt too. And sometimes the dead kill an animal and we- we share it.”

“I fuckin’ _knew_ ya could do that.” Daryl felt a bizarre vindication, remembering how his suggestion to just cut around the bites on that damn deer was shot down by Shane all those years ago.

Paul gave him a look before turning back to Lydia, face serious. “And if they killed a person? Did you share that too?”

Dread hit Daryl momentarily, before it was thankfully swept away by the look of utter disgust that broke through Lydia’s previously empty expression. “No! Never! Why would you even ask me that?!”

Paul looked at Daryl again, nodding at him to answer.

“Cause we knew some people once, long time ago now. Back when our group was smaller, we got taken by some cannibals. Nearly killed us all. Cooked and ate one of our guys legs right in front’a him. Sick shit.”

Lydia looked like she seconded that statement. “No, we never do that.”

“Well,” Paul said brightly, “that’s good to know. Is there anything else you need-“

“-what did you do?” Lydia interrupted, her attention on Daryl. “To those people?”

Daryl almost wanted to shift under her attention, something so piercing and unsettling about her gaze. “Killed ‘em,” he finally answered.

“Is that what you always do? Kill the people who threaten you? Who hurt you?”

“When we gotta. We had to then, didn’t have no choice. Killed people in the war too but then when it was done, we stopped.” Daryl cast a sideways glance at Paul.

“Some were better, thought ‘fore they killed, did what they could to avoid it. Now we ain’t had to kill nobody in a long time. Things might change, but it’ll only change if there ain’t no other way.”

There was nothing more to be said after that really, Paul taking the tray off her, asking if she needed anything before they left for the night, nodding when she said she didn’t and locking her cell again.

“We’ll talk again tomorrow okay?” Paul said with a smile, Lydia nodding after a moment, shooting him a weak, uncertain smile in return. Daryl couldn’t help but notice just how young she looked, how small and out of place in the cell. He tried not to, but every time he saw her, his anger over her part in what happened to Paul was slowly melting away. Why did kids have to be his fucking weak spot?

And what was more, why couldn’t he stop picturing Carl sneaking in to talk to her?

A new, interesting, dangerous person gets locked away at Hilltop? Yeah, Daryl would have put money on Carl sticking his nose right in the middle of it all. For the first time in a long time, his memories of the kid brought more fondness than pain.

By the time they’d exited and closed the trap door behind them, Daryl had resigned himself to the fact that he could no longer blame Lydia for what happened to Paul, even in the misplaced anger way that he had before. He’d also resigned himself to the fact that going by the expression on Paul’s face, they’d be looking for a room in Barrington to keep her in real soon. Unless any red flags popped up as he kept questioning her, Daryl knew Paul would push for her release sooner rather than later.

It was late evening as they once more walked together through Hilltop. Thankfully, they weren’t interrupted, most people currently eating dinner at the communal tables outside of Barrington house or moving around with a purpose. Daryl could tell Paul was relieved to not have anyone come up and ask him more questions about what happened with Gregory. No matter how many years passed, it seemed like people would always assume Paul knew everything that was going on in Hilltop and indeed, the surrounding communities too.

They weren’t often wrong but still, give the man a break.

Really they should both be heading to get food themselves, but Paul didn’t seem very keen on going over to the mass of people and Daryl sure as fuck wasn’t. Fuck it, they had enough odd bits in the trailer to last them.

Not bothering to explain, Daryl just nudged Paul and started walking towards the trailer, Paul following immediately and falling into step beside him. Daryl had planned to take them straight inside but as soon as his eyes caught on the picnic table closest to the trailer, what both of them had long ago deemed _their_ table, he felt his heart seize up, unable to stop his feet from carrying him over and sitting down.

Paul joined him after a moment, sitting on the same bench, both of them looking out over Hilltop in the fading light. He didn’t speak, but the content sounding sigh that escaped him said it all, Daryl unable to stop himself reaching out to hold the hand Paul rested on the table.

He laced their fingers together, eyes tracing the way their hands seemed to fit with each other’s so well.

“Never thought we’d be doin’ this again,” he said quietly, barely breaking the silence at all, his gaze still fixed on their joint hands even as he felt Paul’s eyes on him. “You was dead for two days. To me. You was just dead out on a street somewhere, like you was _nothin_ ’. Or just... walkin’ around, nothin’ left of you in your body. Still can’t believe I got ya back, that I can have this.”

He squeezed Paul’s hand gently, rubbing his thumb over his skin as Paul squeezed back. He didn’t reply for a moment, but Daryl could tell he was thinking something over in his head.

“Never really been scared of dying,” Paul finally began, sounding just a little off balance enough for Daryl to justify scooting across the bench, pressing them closer together, relishing the warm and steady presence of Paul and hoping he got the same from him.

“Just seemed like something that would either happen or it wouldn’t. I’d do my best, I’d always try to make it but at the end of the day, if it was my time then it was my time. I just always hoped I’d go out helping someone or something.”

Daryl could understand that, he’d always been the same, except for that dark time during the war, back when he’d almost courted death yet somehow stayed just an inch away from it no matter what. There weren’t words for how glad he was of that now.

“I knew I had to help the others, that day,” Paul continued quietly, calmly, but with just enough edge to it that Daryl could tell it took effort.

“I could do it, I saw it all so clearly in my head and I just had to act. But fuck, I wished I didn’t have to. I couldn’t help it. I just wanted to run away, wanted to stay alive to get back to you. When I was cut off by the dead, when they pulled me down and I was just waiting to feel their teeth, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. As soon as I realised what was happening, that the dead grabbing me had knives, I fought like crazy. Was almost calm after all that, even as they took me away. ‘Cause I knew I’d get back to you. There was just no question about it.”

He nudged Daryl, finally making him look up at him, a soft smile on his face. “And I knew you’d come for me anyway. Knew I only had to get back to that town. I didn’t even have to do that in the end huh? You came all the way to me. Thank you for that Daryl.”

“Don’t have to thank me,” he mumbled, meaning it more than he’d ever meant anything. “I’ll always come for ya. Follow you anywhere.”

“My very own Dante, braving the circles of hell to find me.”

Daryl couldn’t help but snort. “Ain’t hell, it’s Virginia.”

Paul barked out a laugh, sending Daryl’s heart racing. “I actually think that’s probably worse.”

Dary couldn’t help but grin a little at that, shaking his head as they lapsed into comfortable silence for a moment. He could let it stand, could avoid talking about it any further but he just couldn’t, he didn’t _want_ to. For once he wanted to talk, to explain where his head was at, to make sure Paul knew that there was nowhere Paul could go that Daryl wouldn’t follow.

“Would though,” he said quietly, “go t’hell. Wherever you went, I’d go too.”

Paul looked at him again, the residual smile melting into something serious and understanding. “Yeah, I know.” He seemed to hesitate a moment, sighing and looking back out over Hilltop.

“Maggie was worried about you. Said she was scared of what would happen once you came back and buried me. She thought she’d lose you too. That you’d just fade away or- or follow me.”

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek as he thought over it, turning his own eyes to look at Hilltop so he didn’t have to face the emotions he could see clear even on half of Paul’s face.

Because the thing was, he couldn’t even dispute it, couldn’t even assure Paul that Maggie was worrying over nothing. He honestly didn’t know if that was what would have happened and it should probably scare him, the fact that anything could truly drive him to that instead of just the odd dark thought that had crossed his mind occasionally throughout his lifetime.

“Ain’t sure what I’d’a done,” he finally admitted, the honesty making his heart pound. “All I know is that I didn’t wanna be without ya. Didn’t want to never get to have that talk we said we’d have. Nothin’ felt right. Don’t think anythin’ would without ya there.”

Paul was silent, Daryl unable to look at him, feeling like he was about to shake out of his skin. Paul let go of his hand and Daryl’s heart leapt in alarm, sure he’d said something wrong before the hand slipped into his hair, cupping the back of his head. He turned to look at Paul, seeing so much emotion on his face that it took his breath away. Then they were kissing.

It was nothing like their first kiss, it felt like he was being swept up by the tide, barely able to process anything but at the same time, feeling so safe and wanting it so much that he admittedly melted. Paul kissed him like he was starving for it, like it was all he wanted to do, his hand tight in Daryl’s hair, the other wrapping around his side to pull them closer on the bench.

It was the worst place they could be right now in Daryl’s opinion, what little was left of his brain functions hating the awkward position, wanting to get closer to Paul, to fucking _feel_ him. He was out of his depth in so many ways but this was Paul, the person he loved and trusted and wanted above all others. He was always safe in Paul’s hands, even as his lips and tongue seemed absolutely determined to give him a heart attack.

Daryl would however, deny to his dying day that any kind of noise escaped him. He did not whine and he would fight whoever the fuck disagreed with him.

He was breathless and far too hot around the collar when Paul finally slowed down, both of them breathing heavily against each other’s lips. He was fairly sure the hand he’d somehow moved to the side of Paul’s neck at some point was shaking. It didn’t stop him stroking the soft skin there or from moving it to cup the side of Paul’s face, loving the feel of his beard, loving the way he felt Paul smile against his lips.

God he just loved so much. Loved _Paul_ so much.

Paul pulled back enough to look him in the eye, stealing his breath yet again.

“I love you okay?” he said shakily. “I do.”

“Love ya too.”

Paul smiled again, like an involuntary twitch, still somehow looking surprised. “I know,” he breathed out, “which is why you can’t give up okay? If anything happens to me.”

Daryl felt his blood turn to ice. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to ya. Not again.”

Paul stroked a hand over the side of his face, pushing his hair back. “I wish that were true, for both of us. Wish that we’d be safe and fine, that we’d die old as fuck and together. The world isn’t like that though. And with this new threat... I don’t know, it feels different.”

Daryl hated that he agreed, hated that something in his guts was blaring alarms at what fresh hell the Whisperers might bring for them. But the thought of something happening to Paul, especially after everything that had just happened, after he managed to get him back, was enough to send pure fear rushing through his body with every beat of his heart.

“Hey, look at me. We’re here okay, both of us. I’m not saying anything will happened, just that it might, to either of us or even both of us. There is _never_ going to be a minute that I won’t fight for us, to stay alive or keep you alive okay? I’m not letting you go now Dixon. I just need to know you’d be okay, eventually, if something did happen to me.”

He was well and truly barking up the wrong fucking tree if he thought Daryl could give him that assurance. He could lie, maybe. Paul would see right through it but at least Daryl would have made an effort. In the end, he just couldn’t bring himself to, not with the memory of thinking Paul was dead still so fresh in his mind.

“Don’t wanna be without ya Paul,” he said with a shrug. “‘S all there is to it. Won’t do nothin’ stupid but you ain’t dyin’ before me. Not again.”

Paul kept running his thumb over Daryl’s cheek, hand still resting on his face, his sea coloured eyes searching Daryl’s. After a moment, he just shook his head with a weak grin.

“God you’re impossible Daryl, you really are. Fine, guess we just have to go together then huh? So don’t you forget that either. You don’t wanna be left behind? Well, neither do I. Guess I talk a big game but... don’t know what I’d do without you either.”

Well, after that there was nothing to do apart from lean forward and press his lips to Paul’s again, already knowing he was going to get addicted to it. It had always been a Dixon trait, addiction, but for once Daryl didn’t mind falling into a family weakness.

 

———

 

Despite being as warm and comfortable as he’d ever been, Paul just couldn’t sleep. Daryl had rolled away from him slightly in the night, sprawling out on his back, so still and so quiet even in sleep. For a while, he’d managed to fend off the anxiety and thoughts running riot around his brain by simply rolling onto his side and watching Daryl sleep. He’d never really understood before why anyone would want to do something so damn boring. What could possibly be so captivating about watching someone sleep?

He understood now. Yet another thing he’d only understood once Daryl came into his life. There truly was the most profound sense of peace and contentment that came from watching someone you love sleeping. Daryl was safe and warm and comfortable, right next to Paul in their bed and just getting to watch him and hear him breathe was calming.

After the first few hours though, Paul couldn’t hold his thoughts off any longer, flopping onto his back and staring at the ceiling, knowing sleep was an impossible hope. There were just too many scenarios and worries and problems playing out in his head, each of them screaming for his attention and Paul knew from experience there would be no turning them off.

Gregory had tried to kill Maggie. He’d tried to poison her, to fucking _murder_ her in cold blood, not one room away from her child. Paul was still so blindingly furious over it, the cold, black rage that had overtaken him in her office still simmering away under the surface. And more than that, his utter terror hadn’t truly left either, still haunting him, sending his heartbeat into overdrive whenever he thought about it.

There was also the worry of how to deal with Gregory. Locking him away was all well and good for a brief period of time, but Paul knew damn well it would never work long term. He wasn’t sure he even wanted it to.

He’d tried to kill Maggie, would have succeeded if he’d had just the tiniest bit more sense. Not even Paul could let that one go.

With a final quiet sigh, he gave up on even just staying in bed. His body was practically vibrating with excess energy and he wasn’t sure he liked where his thoughts were going. Carefully, not wanting to wake Daryl, Paul slipped out of bed and threw on some clothes. He could be absolutely silent when he needed to be, but it still gave his ego a nice little stroke whenever he managed to sneak around Daryl. With one last, lingering look at Daryl’s sleeping form, Paul slipped out into the cool air.

From the looks of it, dawn was only a few hours away. He wouldn’t have much time to kill until his little corner of the world started turning again. Paul had always suffered from insomnia, ever since he was child, sometimes barely sleeping at all and even when he did, he was always only an inch or two away from full wakefulness. Not that it was a bad skill to have in this world. Or the old one.

Most of the time he rolled with it, happy to enjoy the nights of peace in his trailer, getting to enjoy some time to himself during the hours that no one in Hilltop needed anything from him. He’d stay up reading or sketching, sometimes exercising if he had too much energy or even just simply thinking. He’d long gotten used to operating on little to no sleep, so it was rarely a problem, those long nights.

Sometimes however, it was utterly maddening. On nights of dark thoughts and worries, of horrible memories both new and old, the sun never did seem to rise quick enough.

Paul knew himself enough to recognise that his mind was currently a very slippery slope and if he let it, he’d soon be plummeting down into a moment by moment replay of every regret he had, every mistake he’d ever made, ever horrible situation he’d been in, obsessing over all of his worries. He needed distractions and he needed them quick. Fortunately, there was always a guaranteed source of something to do during the night.

Pulling his jacket tight around him, Paul headed towards the gates, knowing from experience that he’d either end up getting some easy, mindless company for a while or at the very least, a job to do. This was the worst shift to have on the gates for most people and it didn’t take very much to convince them to let him take over.

He made his way silently up the ladder, the light of the moon just enough to recognise Tara stood to the left of the gate, grinning to himself as he moved forward. Keeping low and quiet, he made his way across the small boardwalk until he popped up right next to her, snickering at how high she jumped and her startled noise.

“Tara, you okay?” came a concerned voice on the other side of the gates. “Who’s that?”

Tara smacked Paul’s arm hard. “Just Jesus being a prick. It’s fine Jackson.”

She smacked him again when he kept snickering. “I told you to stop sneaking up on me!” she whispered forcefully. “One day someone’s gonna land a hit on you, I swear to God. You can’t dodge all of them and I promise, there won’t be a single person feeling sorry for you!”

Already feeling better, Paul just grinned at her. “Hasn’t happened yet and I certainly don’t see it happening either. Besides, it’s good to keep you all on your toes.”

“Go choke.”

“Oh I never choke,” he responded with a wink, making Tara hit him again as he laughed.

They were silent for a moment after that, both of them leaning back against the wooden rail, looking out into the moonlit dark in front of them. It was silent but the right kind of silent, the night sounds and the knowledge of having all of his people safe in the community at his back managing to settle him for a moment.

“So how come you’re out here and not cuddling your boyfriend huh?”

Paul pulled a face at the word. It just felt so childish, so lesser, not even encompassing half of what he felt for Daryl. Plus, they’d never really had _that_ talk, the one where they name what they are; boyfriends, partners, whatever. They just both admitted they loved each other and wanted to be together and that was that. Still, Paul couldn’t find it in himself to worry about how to name what they had, they both felt it and that was enough, everyone else could call it what they liked.

After a nudge from Tara, Paul just shrugged. “Can’t sleep, too much going on. Didn’t want to wake Daryl up so I came out here to your lovely company. Why are you here anyway? I thought you’d have gone back with Rick and Aaron?”

“Nah, thought I’d stay and help out for a bit. Don’t like the sound of these walker skin wearing assholes.”

“The Whisperers,” he muttered, “they call themselves the Whisperers. Don’t go spreading that around to everyone though. We don’t want to spread panic by putting a name to an enemy we’ll hopefully never even encounter again.”

Tara was silent for a second before she broke it with a low voice. “You don’t believe that though, do you? You think we’ll have to deal with them?”

Paul hesitated before he nodded with a sigh. “Yeah, yeah I think we might have to. Just got a bad feeling about it. They just... weren’t right.”

“I suppose you’d know better than anyone.”

He felt a shiver travel up his spine, the memories still too clear of just how close he came to a multitude of nasty ends; going from being torn apart by a herd of walkers, to killed by the Whisperers, to being dragged off destined for torture and death. It was certainly _not_ in his top ten best experiences.

“Really glad you’re okay you know?” Tara said after a moment, giving him a gentle nudge. “I know everyone’s been saying that, but it’s true. Not just glad for myself either. When Daryl finally came out of your trailer the morning after... God, it was horrible. We were all sad but Daryl... well, I suppose you already know.”

Paul didn’t respond, wanting to move the conversation away from the heavy topics he’d been trying to escape in the first place. With a forceful effort, he asked her about how wooing Rosita was going, slowly relaxing as Tara regaled him with her dramatic tales of lovesick angst. Everyone knew it would happen at some point, Tara and Rosita included in Paul’s opinion, but they were still tiptoeing around the issue yet. As much as he wanted to lock them in a room until they sorted it out, he couldn’t help but think that might be a touch hypocritical of him.

They eventually grew quiet as the sun began to rise, relaxing next to each other as the world was slowly bathed in a weak, golden light. He descended the ladder with Tara as her shift ended, accepting her fist bump before she headed off to grab the few hours of sleep she could get before morning truly broke. Paul knew he could try to do the same, but he was still too awake, too full of anxious energy so he really might as well just roll with it.

He saw Earl head to his forge, the man always up early to get it heated up for the day, and decided to join him. He always liked Earl’s company, his quiet and sturdy nature, and simply enjoyed the fact that he didn’t need to speak as he helped him set up the fire and lay out his tools, sent on his way when they were done with a pat to the back.

Daryl would be up soon, Paul knew. Once the sun hit the window of their trailer he woke up like clockwork and had done ever since he’d first started staying there. He still had some time to kill though and couldn’t help but drift over to the door leading to the cells. Maybe he could check on Lydia, the keys to her cell still in his pants pocket. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been okay sleeping in that cell or if she too had had a sleepless night, some strange need continuously growing inside him to make sure she was okay.

Whilst the cellar door blocked out most of the sound within or without, it was possible to get a vague impression and Paul was sure he could hear the faint sounds of crying. Hesitating only a moment, he opened the cellar door slightly, pulling it fully open once he realised it wasn’t just crying he could hear, but _sobbing_. Deep, wrenching sobs were coming from inside, immediately sending Paul rushing down the stairs.

Lydia paused and looked up, fright crossing her blotchy face before she realised who it was, fat tears falling down her cheeks once more. She was sat in the very back corner of her cell, legs drawn up to her chest and looking so deeply distressed that he had to hold himself back from rushing in to hug her.

“Lydia?! What’s the matter?”

He moved in front of the bars, unlocking the door and entering slowly, not wanting to frighten her in the state she was in. She tried to stop crying, roughly wiping her eyes as she uncurled a little, but was unable to stop the little hitches in her chest or the odd tear that kept falling.

“Come on,” he tried again, keeping his voice gentle, “tell me what’s the matter.”

She sniffed, shifting more to face him. “I- I can’t tell you. It’d sound awful. Especially after what- what we did.”

Paul pulled the cell door shut behind him, just in case, before he sat down on the floor opposite her, leaning back against the bars. “I’ll be the judge of that. You can tell me, I promise.”

She hesitated a moment before nodding, more tears rolling down her face. “My... my friend Joshua, he was killed. You, err...”

Understanding hit Paul then and he nodded. “Ah, I killed him.”

She nodded. “I get why,” she said hurriedly, “I don’t blame you. He wasn’t the best person but... he was kind to me. Always kept an eye on me in camp when he was there. Made sure... made sure some stuff didn’t happen if he could.”

“I understand. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry things had to be that way.”

He couldn’t say he was sorry for killing him, not when it was life or death and he had no choice, but he was sorry the situation happened at all. Paul also understood that people who made bad choices, or did bad things, could still be kind to you and look after you. Hell, he himself had hung around with enough thieves, drug dealers and petty criminals in his younger years to understand that.

“It’s too quiet down here,” she continued quietly after a moment. “I’ve never been alone like this before.”

“Really? Never?”

She shook her head with a sniffle. “We never split up really, there’s safety in numbers. The smallest was groups of two if we had to but mostly, I was always with everyone. And then, no matter what... we always had the dead.”

She shrank into herself again, looking up at him and away again as though ashamed. “They’re, I don’t know... comforting. The sounds, the smell. I remember at the start, the smell was the worst, but now it just means I’m not alone, that I’m safe. They protect us.”

It was strange to Paul, but he could see how in her situation, she’d think like that. Everyone was a product of their environment in some way and if she grew up the way she did, it was easy to see why she’d feel that way and why being stuck in her cell all alone was nothing but cruel.

She started crying again, the sight and sound setting off in him the absolute _need_ to fix it for her, to make it all better.

“I’ve never been alone before,” she choked out, “helpless and at the mercy of others. You’re kind, nice, I know you are. Daryl and Enid too. But... I’m just so scared.”

Lydia curled inwards again, sobbing into her hands and Paul couldn’t stop himself any longer. He shuffled over, stopping on his knees in front of her, moving slowly so he wouldn’t scare her.

“Hey,” he said gently, her head shooting up at his closer proximity, “it’s okay. It’s okay to be scared but I promise, nothing bad will happen to you here. I won’t let it, okay? And as grumpy as he seems, neither would Daryl. Our leader, Maggie, she’s a good person. You didn’t meet her under the best circumstances, and she’s had things to deal with recently, but once you meet her properly you’ll see that.”

“I want to believe that,” she sobbed out, breaking Paul’s fucking heart, “I just... I’m...”

Unable to stand it any longer, he reached out and touched her gently on her shoulder, waiting until she looked back up at him. “I’m going to hug you if that’s alright? It’s okay if it’s not.”

She looked confused, unsure. “I... I don’t know,” she stuttered out. He waited as she thought it over, before she finally nodded, breathing out a quiet okay.

He shuffled closer as she dropped her knees from her chest, slowly wrapping his arms around her. She leaned forward, exhaling shakily before almost falling the rest of the way, burying her face into his shoulder, wrapping her own arms tight around him.

Paul gently rubbed her back, feeling such an overwhelming need to comfort her. It was quiet in the cell, only the faint noises of Hilltop waking up above them and the sound of her shaking breaths.

“Can’t remember the last time someone hugged me,” she admitted against his shoulder, making him hug her tighter. “If anyone touched me it’s because they... they wanted something.”

Ice shot down his spine, recognising that tone and it’s implications. “Lydia... what do you mean? Did they-“

“-it’s fine,” she interrupted shakily but firmly, “it’s just how things are now. Sometimes it hurt or I didn’t want to, but most of the time it was quick. It’s fine.”

Rage spread through him, Paul pulling back enough to make her look him in the eye, trying to keep the fury off his face. “It is not okay. It’s not okay at all. Nothing like that should have _ever_ happened to you!”

“It’s how it is now,” she insisted, “it’s fine.”

“Lydia, look at me. That was- that was rape okay? That’s not fine.”

“Rape? No, we don’t recognise that anymore. Do animals rape each other? It’s just a word! A word we once used to convince ourselves we aren’t animals.”

She was obviously getting upset, her breathing speeding up, but Paul couldn’t just drop it. He had to make her understand what he knew she felt; that it was _wrong_.

“It doesn’t matter what you, or I, or anyone calls it okay? The name isn’t the problem. The action is wrong, always. It wasn’t your fault and you should never have had to go through that.”

Paul let that sink in for a second, noting the way her left hand was clenching and unclenching, her finger scratching the skin around her thumb until it bled. He recognised it, one of his own nervous habits and reached out to take her hand in his.

“It won’t happen again Lydia. I promise.”

She looked up at him then, eyes wide and watery, so full of caution but underneath that, the desperate desire to just _believe_ him.

“I promise,” he repeated, knowing that it was one of so many promises that were dangerous to make in this world, but also feeling in his bones that he’d rather die than ever let her go through that again.

“It _will_ _not_ happen again.” 

Paul saw the moment she began to hope, felt the way her muscles relaxed ever so slightly. Maybe she didn’t fully believe it yet, but she was starting to hope and that was enough for him.

He held her for a bit longer after that, neither of them speaking, Paul just knowing she was touch starved for kind, safe affection and all too happy to give it. He’d be getting her the hell out of that cell today, he knew that much too. He needed to speak to Maggie as soon as possible about Gregory anyway, but convincing her to let Lydia leave the cell would be top priority too. She wasn’t a danger to them, she just needed to understand how life really worked away from that fucking cultish group of twisted assholes she’d grown up with.

It was Lydia who pulled away first in the end, looking calmer than he’d ever seen her, smiling shyly and thanking him, as if he’d done anything but be a basically decent human being. Paul told her that Enid would be down soon with food and anything else she might need, knowing that she’d likely end up staying for a while to talk to Lydia. Enid seemed quite taken with Lydia as well, maybe she too could recognise elements of herself in the girl.

He managed to keep it together until he was back out in the sunshine, shutting the cellar door before turning and punching the wall.

Pain shot through his knuckles, clearing away the burning rage until he could think clearer. He pulled his hand back and unclenched it, checking nothing was broken. It was fucking sore, his knuckles scraped and bleeding just a little from the rough brick but nothing permanent. God he hadn’t done that in years. At least it wasn’t his injured side, not sure how he’d face either Daryl or Siddiq if he’d pulled his stitches again so soon.

Breathing deeply a few times, Paul felt his calm returning. Why did there have to be such sick fucks in the world? Walking dead or no walking dead, it seemed scum like that always existed. They always had. 

Swallowing down the burning rage and the rolling unease in his stomach, Paul pulled himself together. He needed to see Maggie, needed to get Lydia out of the cell and settled somewhere better, then he needed to get the Gregory situation sorted before it somehow managed to get any worse. The uncertainty of everything was driving him crazy, his brain running over too many ways things could fall to rack and ruin.

He stalked through Hilltop towards Barrington house, too distracted to even register if anyone tried to talk to him, feeling like he was dragging a raging storm behind him, trying desperately to stay one step ahead of it or the lightning would get him.

Paul was sure his heart was going to beat itself into a breakdown, excess energy shooting up and down his nerves like electric shocks. He wanted to run or fight or something.

“Thought you’d end up here at some point.”

He felt his brain settle back into his skull at the familiar voice, turning his head to see Daryl sat on the porch of Barrington house, back against the brick as he sharpened a small selection of blades laid out on the ground in front of his sprawled legs. Paul finished climbing the porch steps and made his way over, heart slowly seeming to calm down at the sight of Daryl.

“Just ditched me huh? No kiss, no note, no breakfast in bed?”

Paul couldn’t help but smile just a little, loving the faint note of mischief in Daryl’s voice as he dropped down onto the floor next to him.

“Gonna get rid of me then?” he asked, turning his head to see Daryl leaning back against the wall with folded arms, his eyes fixed on Paul and a tiny, barely there smile on his face that made his heart skip a beat.

“Nah, think I’ll keep ya.”

Despite the levity of their conversation, the emotion in Daryl’s eyes as he said it gave him away. God Paul was so in love with him.

“So why’d ya head out so early huh? You okay?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Paul admitted, “my brain wouldn’t shut off, just kept going over what happened and what might happen still and how I need to fix it. Didn’t want to wake you up so I went out, wandered around a little until dawn broke. Chatted to Tara on watch, helped Earl set up for the day, then visited Lydia.”

“Skin wearing weirdo or not, she’s still a teenager. Surprised ya had the balls to wake her up that early.”

Paul grinned for a second, managing to enjoy the surprising levity in Daryl this morning, before he sobered once more. “She was already awake. Was just gonna check up on her but then I heard her crying. Real, awful sobs. Went straight down to see her and we got talking.”

A flash of concern crossed Daryl’s face, seemingly instinctual at the thought of a kid crying. He tried to cover it, but Paul knew Daryl had a soft spot in his heart for children, his natural instinct to protect them, to make sure they were safe and okay.

“What was the matter with her?”

Paul sighed deeply, rubbing the hand not currently throbbing like a bitch over his face. Turning away from Daryl to stare out over Hilltop, he gave him the rundown of what happened with Lydia. He’d just made it to the part where he hugged her before Daryl interrupted, his face like thunder.

“Can’t just be huggin’ her like that!” he growled. “She could’a been fakin’, could’a stole one of your knives and slit your fool neck.”

Paul fixed Daryl with a look. “Daryl, the day someone can steal one of my knives without me noticing is the day I damn well deserve to get taken out.”

Daryl elbowed him in the ribs. “Smarmy prick.”

Paul shot him a wink and a grin, elbowing him back before he felt the helpless, black rage simmer in him again. Daryl noticed immediately, going just as serious.

“What’s the matter? What else happened?”

He looked away from Daryl again, focusing instead on the comings and goings of the colony. “She err, she told me something. Something that happened to her with her group. They-“

He broke off, the anger clogging the back of his throat as he turned to look at Daryl’s worried face. “They fucking _raped_ her Daryl. Some scumbags from her group forced her, God knows how many times, and made her think that’s just the way things are now.”

He saw the anger spread through Daryl, could see in his eyes that he wanted to track down every piece of shit that ever laid a hand on her and feed them their own entrails. Paul sure wouldn’t stop him.

“Sons of bitches!” he spat out.

“I know Daryl, I do. I’m gonna talk to Maggie about letting her out of the cell. It’s driving her crazy and I know she isn’t a threat, I really do. She’s a victim in all of this really. She doesn’t want to go back to them, I can tell she doesn’t and she shouldn’t have to stay in that cell when we all know damn well there’s no way we could risk sending her away. It’s time we start integrating her into Hilltop. It’s the only permanent answer.”

Daryl looked at him for a minute, thinking it over himself before he nodded. “Yeah, yeah I think so too. Ain’t nothin’ bad ‘bout her but what she’ been taught. ‘Bout time she starts getting to live like a real fuckin’ person. We’ll get her right.”

Paul smiled at the protective tone in Daryl’s voice, always knowing he’d cave eventually. For all his gruff and growls, he was a soft bastard on the inside and Paul could have put money on him warming up to her once he got over how they came across each other.

He leaned in and pecked Daryl on the lips, heart swelling at the way Daryl almost chased after him as he pulled away. God he was so hooked on that man, another wave of gratitude hitting him that he got to have this, that he survived and finally got to know what Daryl’s lips felt like. Paul kissed him one more time before pulling back again.

“What were you doing here anyway? Seeing Maggie?”

Daryl nodded, cheeks slightly pink as he cleared his throat. “Mhmm, wanted to make sure she was doin’ okay. She’s still spittin’ mad and a little shook up, but she’s better. Just in her office with Hershel now. Gonna go see her?”

“Yeah. Want to check up on her too and we’ve got a lot to go over. This Gregory thing is going to be a mess. We’ll need to interrogate him, even if there’s no doubt of his guilt. Need to see about Lydia too. Not to mention these Whisperers. Who knows if we’ll encounter them again, but... I really don’t think we’ve heard the last of them yet.”

“Think you’re right. Maggie does too, ‘bout the Whisperers. Told her what Lydia said to me and Enid yesterday. She wants more people on watch, maybe someone up in the lookout keepin’ an eye out all ‘round. She ain’t takin’ this lightly Paul.”

Paul nodded, glad she was already up to speed on a lot of what they knew. He’d tell her the rest and they could go from there, hopefully she’d be willing to get the other communities involved, even at this early state. Rick was there and whilst he never saw the rest, surely that plus the new information would get him onboard. He was fairly sure he could convince Ezekiel too, especially if Daryl talked to Carol about it first.

Carol! Paul nearly smacked himself, unable to believe he’d forgotten to tell Daryl that Carol was on her way. Too many things had happened in such a short time, somehow pushing that fact to the back of his mind. He turned to Daryl, opening his mouth at the exact same moment as Alden leaned on the porch railing in front of them.

“You ready to go Daryl?”

Paul looked at Daryl, watching him collect up his knives as he stood, handing Alden one and pocketing the rest. “Mhmm, be over in a second.”

Paul stood too, smiling politely at Alden when he nodded at him and turned, walking towards a small group gathering by the gate.

“What’s that about?”

Daryl turned to look at him. “Told ya Maggie’s takin’ this seriously. She wants a small guard with anyone goin’ outside the walls. Gonna mind the farmers workin’ on the far fields for a bit.”

He was indeed relieved to hear she was already putting things like that into place, but part of him couldn’t help but wish Daryl wasn’t going out there without him, remembering all too well how easily the Whisperers hid themselves as walkers, blood turning cold at the thought of them managing to get the drop on Daryl.

“What’s that look for?”

Paul sighed, already feeling like an utter hypocrite for wanting to be there to protect Daryl. “Just be careful okay? If the Whisperers do end up coming here, they can blend in with the walkers like it’s nothing. Just... watch yourself okay?”

Daryl nudged him gently. “Now who’s worryin’ huh?”

“I know,” he groaned, “don’t fucking rub it in.”

Daryl’s quiet huff of a laugh still managed to warm him inside and out despite his nerves, eyes soft as he took Paul’s hand and squeezed it.

“I’ll watch out, promise. Go talk to Maggie, I’ll see ya later.”

Paul squeezed back with a smile, having to force himself to let go. He wanted to kiss Daryl before he left but he wasn’t entirely sure he could make himself stop if he did, already liking the feeling too damn much. He watched Daryl walk away, not moving until he’d seen him usher the waiting group out of the gate, the heavy wooden doors closing behind them.

With a deep sigh, he made himself turn and enter the shade of Barrington, ascending the stairs and heading to Maggie’s office, already able to hear the childish giggles and babble from within. 

He knocked and entered, immediately spotting Maggie sitting on a blanket on the floor with Hershel, the two of them playing with little carved toys of cows and dragons and knights. Paul loved watching moments like that, loved watching any between Maggie and Hershel in fact. He’d never had that, never understood what it felt like and it was always fascinating and warming to watch a mother like Maggie. Hershel was a lucky little boy and Paul was happy that he’d never know what it felt like not to be loved.

Maggie looked up as he shut the door behind him, smiling tiredly but looking better than when he’d last seen her.

“Mornin’ Jesus. Guess we have a lot to go over huh?”

Paul nodded with a sigh, both of them knowing they had some real messy issues in front of them. “Yeah, we do. More importantly though, how’re you? Feeling okay?”

She kissed Hershel on the top of his head, passing him the little knight she’d been holding before she stood and moved to drop into the chair behind her desk.

“I’m fine, honestly. All better, just a little tired and my stomach feels... bruised? Hard to describe really. Nothin’ to worry about though, Siddiq checked me over again first thing.”

Paul sat in the chair in front of her desk, relieved to hear she was doing okay. “Good, I’m glad. Still better take it easy though. I talked to most everyone last night, told them a bit of what happened, bought you some time before you have to address them.”

“Thanks Jesus, I appreciate it. I don’t want to talk to them until I’ve decided what to do with Gregory.” She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “God knows what that’s gonna be.”

“Well how about we tackle something much easier first then?”

“That bein’?”

“Lydia. She’s not a threat Maggie, I know she isn’t. She’s been very helpful providing information, she hasn’t struggled or tried to escape and more to the point, I simply _will_ _not_ accept her going back to her group or being sent out alone.”

Maggie looked at him curiously. “Sounds like you’ve got a soft spot for her. What else is goin’ on?”

“Look,” he began, “I’ve talked to her multiple times since we locked her up and she’s... she’s messed up Maggie. The Whisperers have this whole outlook on life now, they believe they’re just animals and the world belongs to the dead. She’s grown up dressing in walker skins, moving with the herds and learning nothing but their messed up bullshit. It’s not right! We have a life here, a real life, and she deserves to get to experience that.”

Maggie just kept watching him as he slumped back into the chair, eyes moving to his twitchy fingers, forcing himself not to pick his nails to bleeding.

“They raped her Mags. Who knows how long it’s been happening for but they excuse it, tell her it’s just the way the world works now. She’s scared and in danger. She shouldn’t have to live like that, never feeling safe, always having to keep one eye open. Nobody should.”

He looked back up at her, seeing the horror on her face and hoping she’d realise how deadly serious he was. “I won’t let her go back Maggie. No way in hell. She should be let out of that cell and integrated into Hilltop and shown what living is really about.”

“Yeah,” she said after a minute, “yeah of course. God that’s- yeah. Get a room ready for her, wherever you think is best and once this mess with Gregory is over, we’ll release her.”

“Do we have to wait? Who knows how long that’ll take. We could-“

“- Jesus, listen,” she interrupted, letting out a deep sigh and looking much older than her years, a weight too big for her to take kept stubbornly balanced on her shoulders. “We both know this isn’t going to end well. We both know where this might end up going. Do we really want her first experience of this community to be _that_?”

Paul felt his stomach drop into his feet. He knew exactly what she was talking about, it was one of the things that had been spinning round and round his head all night. Gregory needed to be punished, there was no getting around that, but for this kind of offence, for something so insidious and premeditated, there was truly only one punishment that fit. He’d just hoped to avoid talking about it for a little longer. It seemed Maggie hoped to as well, leaving it between the lines for now, so Paul just nodded, understanding her logic.

“We need to go see Gregory. Talk to him. Alden told me he’s already been talking to his guards, trying to convince them it’s all just a big mistake, that he found me like that and was about to run for help. It’s only been Al and Eduardo taking turns guarding him thankfully and they both know better than to listen to him.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea,” Paul asked, “he tried to kill you Mags. I can talk to him instead.”

“Nah, I want to. If I’m goin’ to pass judgment on him, potentially... potentially very serious and permanent judgment, then I need to look him in the eye first. I need to be truly sure.”

Paul just nodded, understanding her logic and agreeing with it, he was the same. Even if the final decision was Maggie’s, he knew there was no way he could stay out of this one. There was no nice, safe distance now, he was in it.

They were silent for a bit after that, both watching Hershel play happily and babble nonsense with his toys until Bertie came in to babysit. Once Maggie had given Hershel a kiss and a hug, that simple bit of affection still managing to make Paul smile, the two of them made their way out of Barrington and over to the stables.

It was Eduardo’s turn guarding Gregory when Paul and Maggie arrived, the old man’s complaints ringing out loud and clear. From the pinched look on Eduardo’s face, one Paul recognised well, Gregory had obviously been talking and whining and pleading for a while.

Maggie put her hand on Paul’s arm when he went to move forward, hushing him, indicating she wanted to listen to what was being said. Not like it was hard, Paul was surprised the rest of Hilltop couldn’t hear the pure, desperate bullshit that was coming out of Gregory’s mouth.

“I’m not supposed to be here!” he moaned to Eduardo, the guard having spotted Maggie and Paul but not letting on. “I’m innocent! I’ve been framed, I swear! You know me Edward! Do you really think I’d try and kill someone?”

Eduardo rolled his eyes hard, patience obviously fraying. “Oh so Maggie just poisoned herself huh?”

“Yes! She wants to make sure I never lead again, she’s _scared_ of me! I’ve been helping her out behind the scenes. Jesus tried to help her but we all know leading isn’t his strength! So I advised her instead! Maybe she was scared it’d get out!”

Paul shot Maggie a look, both of them genuinely dumbstruck at what Gregory was trying to convince Eduardo of. And from the look Eduardo sent them both, he was just as done with him.

“So the meds in your trailer? They aren’t yours?”

“No! They were planted! It’s the only thing that makes sense!”

“No,” Maggie said, finally breaking her silence and stepping forward, stopping in front of a rapidly paling Gregory as he gripped the bars in front of him. “It’s not the only thing that makes sense. _Nothin_ ’ you’ve been saying makes sense. You already told Jesus and Daryl that you used the oxy. You used it and stood over me and gloated! You were just goin’ to stand there and watch me die, happy as a pig in shit the whole damn time! My child was in the next room Gregory! You’d have made him a fucking orphan!”

Paul stepped up to Maggie and put a hand on her shoulder, hoping to calm her. This whole thing would be painful enough without her getting too worked up. He turned to Gregory, a part of him enjoying the way he backed away from the bars, face white as a sheet.

“You know what you did Gregory,” he said calmly, “and so does everyone else. There isn’t a single person here that thinks you’re innocent or believes any of your lies. It was premeditated murder. And for that, you need to be punished. But first, have some dignity and stop trying to convince people with that bullshit. Face up to what you did.”

Gregory scowled, looking over Paul with distaste. “Oh you think you’re so high and mighty Jesus, looking down on us all, thinking you’re better than me. You’re not, you’re _nothing_! You should have just stayed dead. I’d have given it a day or two before you were nothing more than a memory! Some chump we let go out on runs for us. Our errand boy.”

He leaned forward against the bars again. “Don’t you ever forget that Jesus. You’re useful, nothing more. And _that’s_ what you’re kept around for.”

“Enough!”

Paul unclenched his fists, the bruised one aching with how tight he was holding them, Gregory hitting a very sensitive nerve. He just hoped he’d managed to keep that fact off of his face, not wanting to give the pathetic prick any kind of satisfaction.

Maggie stepped up to the bars, looking Gregory dead in the eye. “You had everything planned out. I’ll admit, it was good. Spread panic and doubt, convince me of the same, then lure me somewhere we won’t be disturbed. All very well thought out. Except of course, you forgot what a massive _idiot_ you are!”

“I beg your-“

“- all it would have took,” she continued forcefully over Gregory’s splutters, “was checking the damn date on the bottle. You’d have seen they were out of date, maybe used extra and there we go, problem solved. I’m dead and you can somehow take over Hilltop. How was that meant to go by the way?”

“I don’t... that’s not what...”

“Oh yes it is. Except nobody here would have ever put you in charge Gregory, not again. You fucked this community over so many times! You were a crappy leader and everyone knows it!”

“ _No_ ,” Gregory shouted, looking furious and indignant. “No that’s not true! I was a good leader, a smart leader! Sure, I didn’t take on the Saviours but look what happened, we only lost one person! You lost two just on your first meeting! If you hadn’t come along, we’d never have fought them and we’d never have lost so many people. Guess we have Jesus to thank for that too, scuttling away like a rat, running between the communities trying to bring them together to, what? Fight and win in some simple and glorious revolution? Hell, you’re all lucky you’re still breathing.”

“No Gregory, it wasn’t luck. We fought, we risked it all and we won. You tried to sell us out and for what? So you could go back to your pathetic little office and pretend that you were the boss? So you could lick the Saviours boots, scrape together everything you have for them while your own people suffer?”

She scoffed and looked Gregory up and down like he was dirt. “Yeah, you’re no leader.You’re a self obsessed coward, and everyone here knows it. Not a single person in Hilltop would have let you run so much as a bake sale.”

“No, you’re wrong! They would have!” he finally exploded, face red, obviously unable to take the disrespect any longer. “Not everyone liked your way of doing things! They were just scared of you! Scared of what you could do! With you out of the way, they’d be onboard and the rest would follow eventually! Why couldn’t you just _die_?!”

Silence fell in the stables, both Maggie and Gregory breathing hard, the latter’s face slowly losing its colour as he realised what he’d said. Maggie took a deep breath, stepping away from the bars and standing with Paul, a small, victorious smile on her face.

“Well, I’ll take that as your confession then, witnessed by Eduardo and Jesus. You will be punished for this Gregory. You’d best make peace with yourself.”

She turned on her heels and calmly walked out, head held high. Paul allowed himself one more look at Gregory, seeing the fear on his face as he understood what was likely coming for him, before he too turned and left, nodding at Eduardo as he resumed his guard.

He caught up with Maggie as she entered Barrington house, following a step behind as she made her way back to her office, shutting the door behind them and watching as she slowly sank into her desk chair.

“Well,” he began after the silence stretched, “we got a confession. That was good work Mags, you sure you weren’t a farmers daughter by day, hardass detective by night?”

His comment got a small smile from her before she sighed deeply. “What are we gonna do Jesus?”

Paul sat heavily in the chair opposite her, brain spinning and stomach churning at the only answer he could see actually working. He’d never felt so torn over a situation before, never had two sides of himself so at war with each other. In the end, one side won and Paul felt sick with himself.

“We can’t keep him locked up,” he began heavily, “not like Rick did with Negan. Gregory isn’t terrifying enough for that to work. With Negan, people are rightly scared, they remember what he did and it means nobody feels sorry for him. Hell, most people won’t even go down and see him. There’s always that feeling of danger, it keeps them on their toes, reminds them that he’s a monster who can’t be trusted or listened to, even for a moment.”

He sighed deeply, a headache beginning to form, his stomach still churning over his part in making this decision. Maggie nodded for him to continue and as he looked at her still too pale skin, as he remembered the scene he walked in on, Paul found his resolve once more.

“Gregory though, Gregory isnt like that. He’s too pathetic, too cowardly. People still remember what he was like when he lead us; weak and so full of shit you could smell it a mile off. But he was still always pathetic, too chicken to stand up to the Saviours, to make any real decisions at all. Locking him up somewhere he can be seen is too risky. It’ll be too easy for people to start feeling sorry for him, to look at him wasting away behind bars and remember he’s just a weak old man. Then he might start talking to them, might start convincing them that a punishment like that is just too much for what he did, that you were wrong.”

He exhaled shakily, mind turning over and over all the possibilities in his head, stomach churning as he saw them all so clearly.

“It’s so easy to turn people against a leader Maggie,” he said quietly, “no matter how good they are. Who knows, maybe one day he could just convince someone to let him out, let him run far away from Hilltop to live out the rest of his life not locked away behind bars. And he might do that, he might just vanish, but he also might not. He could come back and he might be more twisted and angrier than ever.”

Understanding was clear on her face as she nodded, she too seeing the potential futures in her mind. “You’re right Jesus. He’s not enough of a villain to keep people believing he deserves what he gets. Once day, some kind hearted fool will get tricked.”

She rubbed a hand tiredly over her face, taking a moment as she breathed shakily before looking up and meeting his eye. Paul felt his stomach sink, dread settling as he knew she’d made her decision.

“Gregory has to die.”

Even hearing the words made him feel sick. As angry as he was, as much as Paul wanted to hurt Gregory and as much as he knew this was the only way to keep Maggie safe from him, the thought of it still made him want to run. Gregory wasn’t innocent by any means and Paul truly believed he deserved it. He didn’t feel sorry for him, not really.

No, he felt sorry for _himself_. Sorry for Maggie. Sorry for anyone who would lose a piece of their morals for that pathetic bastard. Paul had made his way through the end of the world managing to keep hold of his beliefs, managing to only kill when absolutely necessary and to make it clean, easy.

Execution was something else. His own words, once spoken to Morgan, came back to him like a punch to the face.

“ _But_ _we_ _don’t_ _execute_.”

It looked like they did now.

“Yeah,” he forced out, determined that if she had to lose a piece of herself to this decision, he’d make sure she knew it wasn’t on her alone. “He does.”

 

 

Hilltop was silent, deadly silent, all except for the man Paul escorted through the community. He felt sick doing it, Gregory’s fear so evident, shouting and pleading, begging and bribing. Maggie told him he didn’t have to do it, that they could ask the guards to collect and bring Gregory to where his life would be ended, but Paul refused.

He had a hand in this, a big one, it was only fair that he cement in his mind that Gregory was a living, breathing, terrified human being. He wasn’t some towering evil like Negan or his twisted little followers. It wasn’t a case of kill or be killed. He wasn’t a walker about to take a bite out of Paul’s neck.

He was a coward, a dangerous one yes, but he was a terrified, pathetic old man and Paul was leading him to his death, to be hung in front of the people of Hilltop. How did they get to that? Where did they go from it?

Where did Paul?

He could feel little stabs and scrapes of pain along his wrists and hands, Gregory clinging on to them with his front bound hands so hard his nails dug in. He tried to struggle away, tried to drop down to the ground like a dead weight but Paul was too strong for him, dragging him stone faced and merciless towards the crowd.

Just like he and Maggie had discussed, there was a rope hanging from the lowest bar of the water tower attached on the other end to a horse. Gregory would die choking and jerking, a spectacle for all of Hilltop.

“Oh God, no,” Gregory moaned as he saw the makeshift gallows, “please Jesus, please don’t do this. You can’t! _Please_!”

Paul gritted his teeth as he stopped them in front of the tower, positioning Gregory in front of the noose. He felt like he was going to throw up, every cell in his body at war between his absolute belief that this needed to happen and his visceral disgust at what they were doing. What _he_ was doing. There was no way to keep himself separate from this, it was Paul that dragged Gregory from his cell and it was Paul that would be putting the rope around his neck.

Gregory had started to sob, shaking in fear, still begging even as his voice broke. It was too much for Paul to take, grabbing Gregory by the shoulders, forcing him to look him in the eye.

“Listen, Gregory! Listen to me, focus on me okay?”

He spoke quietly, just loud enough that the panicking man in front of him would hear but nobody else. “Look, I’m sorry, I am. I wish there was another way but you did this, you tried to kill Maggie. You brought this on yourself.”

“I did! I know I did! But you don’t have to do this. I’ll leave! I’ll never come back! Don’t let them do this Jesus! Don’t you do this to me! Ple-“

“-Gregory!” he interrupted sharply, feeling pity overtake his lingering, immovable anger for a moment, knowing that because of that reaction alone, they couldn’t risk keeping Gregory alive. Still, Paul didn’t have to be cruel now.

“Look at me okay?” he said as gently as he could. “When it happens, look at me. It shouldn’t take too long and then it’ll be over. You had a brother, right? And a nephew? Think of them and... I’m sure you’ll see them again.”

Gregory had stopped begging, listening to Paul’s words, eyes wide and full of terror. Maybe he took his words in or maybe the shock had started to take over, either way he just shook silently.

“I’m sorry this had to happen,” Paul told him quietly, looking into the eyes of someone he’d known for years, someone he’d worked closely with, someone he would now have a hand in killing. He couldn’t say he had any sort of positive emotions towards the man even before he sold them out to Negan, and certainly not after he tried to kill Maggie, but it was still one of the hardest things he’d ever done. It knocked him physically sick, so many conflicting feelings rushing through him.

Paul hated the man, hated what he did and what he nearly took from him. He pitied him too. And for whatever reason, as he placed the noose around Gregory’s neck, Paul just wanted to offer him some measure of comfort. He deserved one last, tiny show of human kindness before Paul would have to step back and leave him to swing.

Keeping his eyes on Gregory, he finally did just that, stepping back and leaving him stood alone at his gallows. Paul wanted to leave, wanted to turn away and not have to look, but he knew he wouldn’t. He had to watch this, all of it.

“Gregory,” Maggie began, addressing both him and the crowd, “you’ve been found guilty of premeditated, attempted murder. This is something we’ve never had to deal with here before and something I’m sure we never will again. You’re dangerous and your punishment must fit the crime. You are sentenced to death.”

“No no no,” Gregory moaned, staring out over the crowd, “this isn’t fair! This isn’t right! You can’t do this, please!”

Maggie ignored him and his struggling, his begging, simply nodding at Daryl stood by the horse. Paul met Gregory’s wide, panicked eyes and held his stare, giving him a nod. It was as much of a goodbye as Paul could give him, the last friendly sight Gregory would ever see.

With a smack to the horses flank, it moved forward, lifting Gregory off the ground and beginning his execution. 

The sight and sound of Gregory choking would be engraved on his brain for a long time, yet Paul refused to look away. He did this, he was a part of this, he had to see it through, had to watch and accept that he’d helped take a human life in a way he never had before. Just like when Paul realised he was about to truly hurt a defenceless Gregory, he knew he’d crossed a line here.

He refused to let it show on his face, but inside Paul was a mess, never having felt so many conflicting emotions over a decision he’d made. He agreed with it, part of him truly wanted it after the bastard tried to kill Maggie, but another part was screaming at him, demanding he look at what he’d become. He’d finally let the world turn him into something he wasn’t.

But even through all that, Paul knew he’d make the same decision, fight for the same punishment, over and over again. It was the only real answer.

Paul looked over at Maggie, seeing her fierce, almost frightening expression, like she truly believed this was righteous. He knew she’d always had an element of that in her, seeing it when she’d nearly ordered all of the Saviour POW’s killed. From the stories he’d heard from Daryl, Paul suspected she’d always been tough, always capable of doing brutal things for the people she cared about but always trying to be better, to be kind. Glenn’s death broke something in her and Paul couldn’t blame her for it, but he’d still always felt the need to make sure she didn’t jump into something she’d regret, even in some small way.

He’d been right with the POW’s, glad he’d fought their corner, but no matter how ill it made him feel inside, Paul knew there was no other way with this and Maggie would certainly never regret it.

Too slowly for Paul’s liking, Gregory began to stop jerking, the awful choking sounds getting quieter and further apart until finally, everything stoped. All that was left was a body swinging from the rope and a heavy silence.

“Cut him down,” Maggie ordered at last, Paul and Daryl jumping into action immediately. Daryl went for Gregory first but Paul nodded for him to get the rope instead, leaving him stood by Gregory’s still legs. Daryl guided the horse forward, lowering Gregory’s body until Paul could get a strong hold of him, Daryl cutting the rope at his nod.

The body was heavy, but Paul didn’t flinch, gently positioning it in a fireman’s hold over his uninjured shoulder and asking for someone to fetch a blanket. Siddiq stepped forward, having apparently already thought ahead, laying a large piece of cloth out on the ground before helping Paul lay Gregory out on it.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Paul knelt down to help Siddiq wrap him up. The body wasn’t a pleasant sight, Gregory’s face purple and bloated from the pressure of the rope, his eyes blood shot. He cut the rope from around Gregory’s neck and then stabbed him in the side of his head, closing his eyes and finishing the wrapping.

When he finally stood, feeling Daryl come stand next to him, he saw Maggie turn to the assembled crowd, most of them pale from what they’d just witnessed.

“I know this was hard to watch,” she began, her voice as firm and commanding as always, “but it had to happen. And even though I made the final decision, I know the majority of you stood with me because we all know actions like his, especially when preceded by his other moves against this community, _cannot_ be forgiven.”

She paused, letting her words sink in. Paul knew this was important, that she needed to speak to her people and reassure them, as well as cement in their minds how important and unavoidable killing Gregory was. He knew it was important yet he couldn’t help but want her to hurry it up, to dismiss them all, to not have a damn audience anymore. It was taking all his effort to keep looking calm, to continue projecting an air of confidence over their decision, standing tall in support of Maggie when all he really wanted to do was throw up and hide in his trailer for a while.

The only thing keeping him together was the slight, solid weight of Daryl’s arm pressing against his. He could focus on that, just until she was done. After that he’d be free to shake apart in peace.

“However, this is not the start of something and we cannot let it be the start of something. To be honest with you all, I don’t know if I could go through this again. We cannot be killing each other, we just can’t. Not after everything we’ve been through, not after what we’ve survived. We can’t let each other be what takes us out.”

A murmur of agreement passed through the crowd, Paul relieved that it seemed he wouldn’t have a mutiny on his hands at least, everyone seemingly onboard with what happened.

“I expect each and every one of you to work with me,” she continued, “to make sure that something like this never has to happen again. We’ve all come too far and I know we can continue, that we can keep working on making this a community and a world truly worth living in. But we can only do that together.”

She let her words hang, let them take in her expectations of them all, before nodding at the crowd. “That’s all.”

Paul didn’t move as the dismissed crowd steadily dispersed, the deepening dusk ushering everyone to their homes, to each digest what they’d just watched and make their own peace with it. Soon there was just Maggie, Jesus, Daryl and Siddiq left.

And Gregory, his body. A thorn in their sides no longer.

“Ya okay?”

He didn’t have time to answer Daryl’s quietly muttered question before Maggie was turning and joining them, looking down on the shrouded figure without a trace of sympathy or regret but a shadow nonetheless.

“What shall we do with his body?” she asked them all. “Burn him or bury him? He was the one to put the old no burial rule in place right? Back before we got here?”

The latter part was directed at Paul and he managed to pull himself together enough to answer her, clearing his throat roughly. “Yeah, he did. But I’d prefer if we buried him. It just... it feels wrong not to. It’s your choice in the end, but there’s no need to burn him, not if it’s just to show the rest that he’s not one of us. He made his choice and he died for it, there’s no reason to make a point now.”

Maggie looked at him closely for a few moments before she nodded. “Okay, we’ll bury him in the back cemetery.”

Paul felt a weird rush of relief at that, knowing that Gregory would at least be allowed a grave. The whole situation had him messed up, feeling at odds with himself, parts of him downright baying for Gregory’s blood and others cringing away at the barbarity of it. It should come as no surprise to him that even dead, Gregory was still a pain in his ass.

“Can I leave it to you guys? I... I want to go see Hershel before he falls asleep. Just need to hold him for a bit.”

They all agreed, Paul even managing to dredge up a smile for her as she left, feeling it fall off of his face as soon as she was gone. Like a magnet, he found his eyes drawn back to the still figure on the ground.

“I’ll take him,” he found himself saying, “I’ll bury him.”

Siddiq opened his mouth to respond, eyebrows drawn in concern but paused as Daryl stepped in front of Paul, leaning in close.

“Hey,” he murmured, eyes fixing on Paul’s. “Ya don’t have to okay? I got this.”

“No, no it should be me. I-“

“-Paul,” Daryl interrupted, surprisingly gentle, “it don’t. Don’t have to be you. Shouldn’t either, not with your shoulder. Go back to the trailer alright? I can handle it.”

The mention of his shoulder was just an excuse and they both knew it, but for once, Paul didn’t actually want to push any further. The thought of just retreating to the trailer for a bit was getting more and more tempting by the minute, not to mention needed. With a deep sigh, he nodded, feeling weary down to his bones.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Don’t gotta thank me. Be back soon.”

Paul smiled weakly at him, grateful beyond words that this was one burden he wouldn’t have to take on. He nodded in gratitude at Siddiq as well, watching for only a moment as he and Daryl bent down to lift Gregory together before he turned and made his way to the trailer.

It was quiet around Hilltop, everyone seeming to have disappeared into their own spaces and staying there, a strange weight almost tangible over the whole place. Paul shivered in the night air, finally entering his trailer and letting the door shut behind him. With the pressure of maintaining his image gone, the last thread keeping him up and together snapped, leaving him shaky and sick and exhausted.

He felt numb to his bones, mindlessly undressing and heading to the bathroom. He stepped into the shower, hoping the warm water would chase away the cold that had dug its way into his body. Under the spray, Paul just stopped thinking for a while, his thoughts not returning to him until he heard the trailer door open and shut some unknown time later.

The water had cooled significantly, though it was the first time he’d noticed it, briefly concerned at having lost track of time so severely, when a gentle knock sounded on the bathroom door.

“Hey Paul, ya okay in there?”

Paul cleared his throat. “Yeah... yeah I’m fine. Be out in a minute.”

Now that he’d noticed the temperature of the water, he was fucking cold, shivering slightly as he turned it off and stepped out, realising he’d forgotten to grab some clothes to change into. He dried off mechanically, trying not to think too much about anything, before he wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out into the trailer.

Paul’s eyes immediately landed on Daryl, heart skipping a little at the sight of him sat at their kitchen table with a mug of tea and two glasses of what looked like whisky. Daryl eyed him up and down, cheeks heating up in an admittedly adorable way before he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I err, I didn’t know what you’d want. Somethin’ warm or somethin’ stronger. Did ya both.”

Paul didn’t even know what to say, too touched by such a seemingly simple thing. “Both is, both is great,” he finally managed. “Thank you.”

Daryl nodded. “Got ya bandage wet,” he pointed out, talking around the thumb nail he was chewing on. “Just gonna shower, then I’ll redo it for ya.”

Once he looked closer, Paul saw dirt on his clothes and hands. Grave dirt.

“Waters cold,” he said numbly. “Sorry, kind of lost track of the time.”

Daryl just shrugged, standing up and grabbing his usual sweatpants and baggy tshirt from the chair next to him. “Don’t matter, washed up in worse. You err, get dressed or somethin’. Just be a minute.”

If he was in a better mood, Paul would have grinned at Daryl’s flustered reactions at the sight of him topless, it was quite the ego boost. As it was, he was too sad and confused and mixed up to feel anything other than utter love and fondness for Daryl and his sweet yet awkward ways.

As Daryl retreated into the bathroom, Paul changed quickly into his sweatpants, grabbing the largest, softest, warmest long sleeve top he had and putting it on his lap for later as he sat heavily at the kitchen table. He knocked back the whisky in one go, appreciating the warming burn of it as he wrapped his hands around the hot mug of tea.

With great effort, he managed to not think of anything until the bathroom door opened again, Daryl walking out looking clean and adorably rumpled in his own sleep clothes, unceremoniously chucking his jeans and top in the general direction of the milk crate that served as their laundry basket.

Paul watched as Daryl moved to the kitchen, grabbing their battered first aid kit from the cupboard and bringing it over to the table. He didn’t say a word as he pulled a chair in front of Paul and peeled the wet bandage from his shoulder, carefully checking each of the stitches, pouring some disinfectant onto a piece of gauze and laying it over the wound. Paul barely even noticed the sting, too focused on watching Daryl’s face and trying not to tear up or shake at the level of care and love that he was being handled with.

The gauze was removed and the wound was finally covered with a bandage and taped in place. Once he was finished, he left his hand on Paul’s shoulder, ever so gently stroking his fingers across his skin. Paul shivered, leaning into the comforting touch, Daryl taking his cue and moving closer, his other hand moving up to cup Paul’s cheek so gently he wanted to cry.

One of the overarching themes of Paul’s life was a complete lack of safety. Ever since he could remember, he could never just relax, never rely on the fact that he was safe in a place or with a person, always waiting for the bad to come. But in Daryl’s hands, in the quiet dark of their trailer, Paul felt safe, really and truly safe.

He didn’t resist when he was pulled into a hug, he just collapsed into Daryl, burying his face in his neck and wrapping his arms around his body. They didn’t speak, they didn’t need to; he just focused on Daryl’s steady breaths against his neck, the gentle fingers trailing along his back.

Paul was safe, heart body and soul. He wanted to stay exactly like this, to simply stay safe and loved. He couldn’t help but hope and pray that one day, when his number was finally up, he’d go like this, wrapped up in Daryl’s arms and feeling nothing but peace.

He was hit with the most overwhelming exhaustion, like the past few days were finally hitting him, demanding that he just shut off for a while. It wasn’t until he was gently shook that he realised he’d been dropping off against Daryl.

“Hey, come on, ya need some food at least. You even eaten today?”

Paul realised he hadn’t, the gnawing in his stomach blending in so well with the churning nerves and nausea he’d felt all day that he hadn’t noticed.

“Didn’t think so, damn idiot,” Daryl scolded him gently, making him sit up, Paul looking at his face through slowly blinking eyes. Fuck he was so tired, he just wanted to sleep. When he told Daryl that however, he was gently but firmly told, “can sleep when you’ve eaten, ya fuckin’ moron.”

With a gently squeeze of Paul’s shoulder that contradicted his scowl, Daryl left him at the table to stomp into the kitchen. Paul watched him fondly, tugging on his incredibly comfortable long sleeved top and trying not to fall asleep at the table. After a bit of banging and grumbles, a plate containing a simple but really quite delicious looking omelet was shoved in front of him, Daryl digging into his own with gusto after growling out a command to eat.

Smiling, Paul did just that, basking in the feeling of being loved and cared for as he ate the best omelet he’d ever tasted in his entire life. For a moment, he could just forget everything that had happened and everything that might happen still.

When they were finished, Daryl collected their plates and shoved them in the sink, obviously planning on leaving the washing up until tomorrow before he took hold of Paul’s hand and pulled him over to the bed. Under any other circumstances, being all but shoved into bed by a very handsome man would have been cause for celebration, but tonight all Paul felt was exhaustion, happy to hand the reins over to Daryl for a bit, knowing he’d make everything alright. 

Sliding under the covers with a contented sigh, he felt Daryl get in too and soon he was gently manipulated onto his side facing the wall. Then Daryl squeezed up behind him and Paul melted, feeling so warm and protected as Daryl wrapped himself around him. He’d never thought of himself as ever needing protection or even _wanting_ it, but again it just felt so good to give in, to just be cared for, to let himself have this.

Daryl pressed a kiss against the back of his neck, wrapping his arms around him tighter, thumb stroking across the bare skin of Paul’s hip bone where his shirt had ridden up. They were silent until Daryl finally, quietly broke it.

“You doin’ okay? Honest answer.”

“Don’t know,” Paul said quietly after a long pause. “Don’t know how I feel. I... I wouldn’t change what happened, what we did. What _I_ did. I just wish it never had to happen in the first place. I hate him for what he did and part of me is... glad. Vindicated. Hell, I practically suggested it! And that makes me feel sick. Then the other part of me just can’t believe I let that happen, that I was a part of it.”

He broke off, emotion turning his voice thick and subdued. “I crossed a line today Daryl. One I promised myself I’d never cross. Feels like I’ve lost something.”

“Ain’t wrong to feel like ya do,” Daryl mumbled after a moment, “think it’s understandable really. You’re a good person, too good for the rest of us. Ain’t surprised it hurt ya to do it and I ain’t surprised ya also think it was right. ‘S not so black and white.”

He fumbled around until he found Paul’s hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing.

“And... maybe ya ain’t lost somethin’. Maybe ya just found somethin’ new. He hurt Maggie, your family, he tried to kill her. That ain’t somethin’ ya can stay logical about. It’s ya first time with somethin’ like this right? Well, ya just found out what it means to be family. That there ain’t nothin’ ya wouldn’t do to protect ‘em.”

Paul swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, trying to think of the right words to describe what that meant to him, the fact that he had a family now and someone he loved that loved him back and knew him so well. In the end, there just weren’t any words, but he was sure Daryl understood anyway. Instead, he just pulled their joint hands up to his face and kissed the back of Daryl’s, holding it against his heart and getting comfortable.

He felt Daryl settle further, both of them relaxing into each other until it felt like every breath they breathed they did together, that every beat of their hearts went through two bodies instead of one.

As he fell further down into an exhausted sleep, body and mind totally drained of all energy, Paul had an irritating feeling that he’d forgotten to tell Daryl something. As the fog of sleep tugged him under completely, Paul just reassured himself that he’d remember in the morning.

For now, he was safe and warm and at peace. He could at least enjoy it while it lasted.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning* like in the comics, Lydia was raped during her time with the group. There’s no descriptions or anything like that, but she tells Paul that it happened. There’s nothing more than the word and comic level discussion but better safe than sorry me loves!
> 
> So, it’s been a hot minute hasn’t it?? Sorry!! Life, short curlies, you know the drill. But I hope I made up for it with a fucking long arse chapter! I hope it didn’t seem to jarring how Paul bounced between what he felt over Gregory, I just think he’d be very mixed up about the whole thing. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you guys thought about it! Comments keep me moving xD xxxx


	3. Chapter 3

Organising a room for Lydia turned out to be a lot easier than they’d anticipated. Once Paul started asking around, trying to see if anyone would be willing to shuffle around or bunk together, he was pounced on. Enid must have caught wind of it somehow, the young woman half jogging out of Barrington house as they were about to knock on another trailer door.

“She can stay with me,” she declared, a smile on her face that Daryl hadn’t seen in a long time. “I’ve got plenty of space in my room and I think she’d like it. She doesn’t know anyone else here but us three and... me and her are friends.”

Daryl was surprised; after Carl, Enid hadn’t really been close to anyone, keeping distantly friendly with everyone except those she’d already attached herself to; Maggie, Paul and Daryl at Hilltop, and Aaron back in Alexandria. It was refreshing to see her willing to open herself up again, to make friends, to want to help someone lost and alone. 

Paul must have thought the same, a smile spreading across his face at her shy enthusiasm.

“Well, if you really don’t mind sharing, I’m sure she’d love that.”

Enid grinned wide and unrestrained, excitement clear in her eyes. “I don’t mind at all, it’ll be great! Can I go tell her?”

She looked so damn happy about it that neither of them had the heart to tell her no.

“Sure,” Paul answered. “Take her some breakfast too yeah? And tell her we say hi.”

Enid agreed eagerly, saying goodbye to them over her shoulder as she headed off for the kitchens. She practically had a damn skip in her step, energised and excited, her usual quiet apathy and reservation nowhere to be seen. It’d be good for them both, Daryl thought, having someone so close. Enid could help Lydia in ways that neither Daryl or Paul could, and he had the feeling that Lydia would end up helping Enid too.

“Well,” Paul began, turning to Daryl, “I guess that works out then. Never would have thought she’d be so eager to share her room, she’s always defended it to the death before. I remember asking her if she’d share it for a few days when the Kingdom’s runner visited and I swear her glare nearly burned my hair off.”

“Ain’t complainin’. It’s good they like each other, fuck knows Enid needs some friends and not just us old bastards.”

Paul flicked his ear. “Speak for yourself cradle robber.”

Well, Daryl couldn’t be expected to let that stand, which is why Tara found them a few minutes later wrestling shamelessly in front of the trailers. Daryl would’ve liked to say he was winning, but as Paul had him trapped in a fucking inescapable headlock, he probably wouldn’t have been believed.

“Am I interrupting something boys?”

Paul, the little shit, just kept Daryl pinned, amusement clear in his voice as he looked at Tara. “Nope, just couple’s therapy.”

He elbowed Paul in the ribs, even as his heart gave a pathetic little leap at hearing him refer to them as a couple. Being one half of a couple always seemed like an impossible idea for him; it was something that happened to other people, better people, people who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid of that, people somebody else actually wanted. It never seemed like something that would ever happen to him.

Yet this morning, he awoke wrapped around Paul Rovia with his hand resting on his heart, their legs tangled together and feeling so completely blessed that he almost wanted to pinch himself. Daryl couldn’t remember the last time he’d stayed in bed after waking, usually up and out practically as soon as his eyes opened. Never before had he stayed there for a good half hour, simply soaking up every sensation of every second spent holding Paul.

He didn’t move until Paul did and even then, they started the morning slow. Daryl figured they deserved it by now, Paul especially. It was one of the nicest mornings he’d ever had.

Though, as Paul poked him repeatedly in the one ticklish spot he had, right over his ribs on his left side, Daryl couldn’t help but lament his shitty choice in boyfriend, partner, _whatever_ the fuck they were calling themselves.

“Well,” Tara said with a laugh as Daryl fruitlessly twitched and swore and struggled, “if you’d put him down for a bit, that’d be great. You’re causing a ruckus.”

“Urgh, fine,” Paul groaned dramatically. “You always ruin my fun.”

Daryl couldn’t resist getting one last jab in as he was released, almost wanting to laugh at the sheer joy on Paul’s face. God he was such a prick and always loved getting one over on Daryl, especially when other people were witness.

Once again it reassured Daryl that nothing between them would have to change now that they were together; they could still be their usual, rough selves, they’d still fight and provoke each other, still torment each other half insane. It’d just meant they got to do and be so much more too.

As they both straightened up, Tara just rolled her eyes. “Match made in heaven, I swear to God.”

She walked off, calling to the rubber-necking inhabitants of Hilltop that the show was over. Daryl flipped Earl the bird, the large man barely hiding his amusement as he looked at him and shook his head in disappointment.

One day Daryl would beat Paul in a fight and he’d be damn sure to let everyone in Hilltop know it. Fucking ninjas ruining his image.

Almost as soon as they’d dusted themselves off, a blonde blur shot forward and crashed into Paul. Daryl would deny that he’d jumped, heart pounding and muscles tensing for a second before he saw it was just Lydia, the young girl wrapping her arms around an equally shocked Paul.

“Thank you! Thank you so much! Enid said I’m gonna have a room, with _her_! I can start living here and it’s because of you!”

Lydia squeezed him tighter, Paul’s face softening like fucking butter as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged back. “It’s no problem at all.”

She pulled back with a smile, an actual one that made her look younger than her years, beaming up at Paul like he’d put the damn sun in the sky. Great, she’d imprinted.

“Well, how about you and Enid go get settled in. She can show you her room, your room now too, and I’ll come meet you there soon. I just have some things to do first but then me and Daryl can show you around Hilltop if you’d like?”

Judging by her expression, Daryl would say she more than ‘liked’ it. He predicted a small, blonde shadow in Paul’s future from now on.

“Okay! I’ll see you then!”

With one last squeeze she shot off into Barrington, Enid finally catching up, a fond, soft look on her face as she waved at them both and headed in after her. Yeah, Daryl felt fairly sure those two would help each other. He just wasn’t sure if Hilltop could survive Enid having a sidekick.

“Seems ya got a fan.”

“Yeah,” Paul said distantly, a stunned look on his face but a small smile blooming, “guess I have.”

He finally shook himself out of it, smiling at Daryl. “Right, as much as I want to go check on Maggie, I need to do damage control with everyone. Just to get an idea of how they’ve been taking what happened now that they’ve slept on it. I can’t see there being any problems, but if there are, the sooner I can nip them in the bud the better.”

Daryl could see the logic in that, not surprised that Paul thought about it first, prepared to go and deal with the feelings of everyone in Hilltop despite his own emotions and exhaustion.

“Want me to come with ya?”

Paul smiled at him so warmly that Daryl had to duck his head, feeling his heart actually swell or some shit.

“As much as I’d like you to, I think it’d be a better idea if you went to Maggie first, see how she’s doing after yesterday. I’ll join you both when I’m done.”

He sighed deeply, already looking weighed down once again as Daryl looked back up at him. It made him want to repeat last night and this morning over and over again, to give Paul peace and rest until he looked like he should, until he lost the dark circles around his eyes and the constant weight of worry and responsibility in his mind.

“Then we need to talk about the Whisperers,” Paul carried on heavily, “about getting ready for them. I want Maggie to call a cross community meeting as soon as possible. We need to start preparing for the possibility that we might encounter them again. And hopefully now that Lydia knows she doesn’t have to go back to them, she’ll tell us more about them and we can all be ready.”

“Mmhmm, think you’re right. I’ll check in on Maggie then. Don’t be too long yeah? People gotta deal in their own way, you don’t owe ‘em nothin’. Ain’t on you to bring them peace with it.”

Paul looked surprised, vulnerable almost, like nobody had ever really thought to look deeper into the reasons he did things before. It almost made Daryl want to laugh, well, either laugh or smack everyone around the head. Paul wasn’t as hard to figure out as he thought he was, you just needed to figure out how to decode him first. Daryl supposed nobody else had cared enough or been interested enough to do it.

As sad as that was for Paul, Daryl couldn’t help but feel like it was the world’s loss. Daryl got to know Paul, got to see all the odd, dark, interesting, hidden bits of him and he was fucking thankful for it. To hell with anyone who didn’t see that as the honour it was.

Paul smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. It’s just... well, I guess I don’t like the thought that I not only had a hand in making last night happen, but that it’s also distressed anyone here. They don’t deserve that.”

“You don’t neither. Maggie don’t. So go do your thing, just don’t go doin’ it thinkin’ it’s your damn fault if there’s any problems. Everythin’ ain’t just on you Paul.”

Paul kept staring at him, his eyes unguarded as they met Daryl’s before he nodded, leaning forward to kiss him, far too quickly for Daryl’s liking. He pulled back with a smile, looking more settled and grounded, filling Daryl with a ridiculous amount of pride that he’d helped at all.

It was still such a pleasant surprise when that happened, when it was so perfectly obvious just how well they worked together, how well they fit and understood each other. Even as the corny thought made him cringe inside, he couldn’t help but think that Tara was right, they really could be a match made in heaven.

“Don’t take forever,” he warned, “we got a date with a little blonde weirdo.”

Paul grinned at him, stepping back. “Don’t pretend she hasn’t grown on you too Daryl, it won’t win you any tough guy points.”

Daryl flipped him the bird as Paul started to walk away, a sharp grin clear on his face before he turned away from him.

“See you later cradle robber!” Paul shouted as he made his way towards towards the centre of Hilltop, knowing damn well that far too many people would be able to hear it.

“I will kick your ass,” Daryl shouted back, face heating up, “just you wait!”

“Can’t wait too long old man! Who knows how many years you’ve got left in you!”

“Prick!”

As Paul finally moved out of sight, Daryl couldn’t help but shake his head and grin to himself. Paul could tease him as much as he liked if it made him look and sound like himself again, like the little shit he truly was.

Ignoring the chuckles of the Hilltop residents hanging around, Daryl turned and headed into Barrington and up the ridiculous staircase. Maggie was far less stuffy than Gregory had been over the place, but it was still far too fucking fancy for Daryl’s taste. As he reached the first floor, he couldn’t help but pause for a second as he passed Enid’s room, hearing the two girls chatting and laughing inside, pleased that the two of them were getting on so well.

He moved on and knocked on Maggie’s office door a few rooms down from Enid’s, entering at her call. He’d have thought she’d be with Hershel but it seemed he was with Bertie for the day, leaving Maggie looking far too tense behind her desk.

“You okay?” Daryl asked as he entered, shutting the door behind him and standing in front of her desk. “Ain’t lookin’ too good.”

“Well that’s certainly not how to charm a woman Daryl.”

He snorted. “Yeah, ain’t never exactly been an aim of mine.”

Maggie’s face finally cracked, the stress and darkness chased away momentarily by amusement. Daryl realised with surprise that he’d never joked like that before, never been comfortable enough to even touch the subject let alone make a joke about it. It was strangely freeing.

He sat down in the chair in front of her desk, not liking how quickly the stress and weight came back over her as she stared at her desk.

“I don’t know how I feel right now Daryl,” she sighed, looking tired and worn down. “I did somethin’ yesterday, somethin’ I never thought I would. And the worst thing is, I don’t regret it, not at all. Is that wrong? I judged and publicly executed someone and the only thing that kept me awake was wondering what... what my daddy would’a thought, what Beth would’a. And... and Glenn.”

She looked up at him and Daryl felt his heart clench at how lost she looked. “Would they be disappointed in me? That I did that? That I can’t be like them?”

“Nah,” he blurted out immediately, not quite sure what to say to help but not wanting her to think that for a second longer. “Hell nah. They could never be disappointed with ya.”

“I just- I don’t understand why I’m not like them. My daddy tried to teach me right but even before all this, even when I was just a teenager, I was rotten sometimes. And now... it’s like there’s somethin’ dark and twisted in me and I don’t have them to soften that up no more. What happened with Gregory? That was somethin’ I don’t know if they could forgive me for. I’m-“

“-God Maggie,” he interrupted roughly, cutting off her increasingly distressed comments, “ya gotta stop okay? Stop. You really think Glenn would’a stood for what that sack of shit did to ya? Poisoning ya? Hell nah. And Beth... Beth was sweet, but she weren’t soft. Saw that m’self. She wouldn’t’a let that go neither. And Hershel might not’a done it like we did, but he’d’a killed anyone who hurt you Maggie, anyone who tried to kill ya and leave your kid an orphan.”

She seemed to deflate as he spoke, shoulders hunching, looking like a woman who was very tired and very lost.

“Why aren’t I like them though Daryl? I wish I was, they were good people.”

“Yeah they were good. But so are you. And I’m damn glad you’re exactly how ya are, ‘cause it’s kept you alive. _Anythin_ ’ that keeps ya alive is good in my books. Best keep it that way.”

A small smile finally emerged. “Thanks Daryl. Same with you.”

Without thinking too much about it, he partially stood and leaned over her desk, kissing the top of her head and giving her shoulder a squeeze before sprawling back in his seat to see Maggie staring at him with a weird look on her face.

“What?”

Her face broke out into the first real grin he’d seen on her face in days. “Who knew gettin’ the guy would make you so damn sappy!”

Daryl felt his face heat up. “Ain’t sappy!”

“Yes you are! You’re all soft now! Practically skippin’ around singin’ compared to how you normally are!”

“The hell I am!”

“Protest all ya want Daryl, it’s plain to see.”

Her shit eating grin faded a little, overtaken with gentle fondness. “Seriously though, happiness is a good look on you. Good look on you both actually. I know stuff ain’t the best right now, but it’s good ya got each other.”

Well, not even Daryl could pretend to argue with that, especially not when Maggie’s voice had too much melancholy in it along with her genuine happiness for Daryl. It wasn’t until very recently that Daryl truly understood the pure agony Maggie lived with. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone, let alone her.

After a moment of silence, they started talking again; nothing heavy, just shooting the shit as they waited for Paul, Maggie relaying Hershel’s newest adventures and tantrums. A knock at the door interrupted them not too long later, Paul entering without even waiting for Maggie to speak, shutting the door behind him and looking utterly exhausted.

“Everythin’ alright Jesus?” Maggie asked, almost visibly bracing herself for bad news.

Daryl stood up from his seat, meeting Paul’s eye and nodding to it. Fuck, Maggie might be right about him getting sappy, a warm feeling spreading through him when Paul accepted it with a grateful smile.

“Well, nobody’s planning a mutiny or changed their minds about it at least,” Paul said as he turned to Maggie, all business once again. “It’s still sitting heavy with them, he was with us a long time even if it was less than perfect, but everybody still agrees it was the only thing to do.”

Maggie still looked concerned, Paul reaching over the desk to put a hand over hers. “I promise,” he said gently, “nobody thinks any less of you.”

Finally she relaxed, exhaling and shooting Paul a small smile. Trust Paul to always see to the heart of the matter; of course Maggie would care if it’d changed the way her community and friends saw her. She cared about all of them so much, valued their opinions and valued them as people. She’d always do whatever she felt was right of course, regardless of if it might change how they see her, but she was still human and she still cared about it.

Of course, the momentary peace and relief couldn’t last for long, Paul settling back into his chair with a deep sigh.

“We need to talk about the Whisperers now. I know you’ve already started putting measures into place but I just can’t help feeling like it isn’t enough. I think you need to go to Alexandria and call a cross community meeting. If we can all work together and put plans in place, we’ll all be in a much stronger position than we were with Negan. We’ll be ready if the Whisperers really do turn out to be a problem.”

Maggie nodded. “I was thinking the same. I’d send a runner but until we know if the Whisperers are in our area, I’d rather not risk-“

Maggie’s face went pale, her words stuttering off as she looked at Paul. Dread spread through Daryl as he looked at Paul and saw he too had been hit by something, eyes wide and face white.

“Oh shit,” he whispered. “Carol. Dante.”

Electricity shot up his spine at her name, confusion and urgency flooding him as he looked between Paul and Maggie.

“Wait, what? _Carol_? The fuck does that mean?”

Paul stood from his seat quickly, worry on his face. “I’m so sorry Daryl... I kept meaning to mention it. I can’t believe I forgot.”

“Forgot _what_?! The hell’s goin’ on?!”

“I sent for Carol,” Maggie said, “when you left to find Jesus’ body. I was worried about you, so I sent Dante to go get her.”

Daryl went utterly still, breath catching in his chest. She should be here by now. If she was worried about Daryl, she’d have set off not five damn minutes after Dante arrived. She should be fucking here by now.

Rage and panic ran riot through him, setting his nerves on fire.

“What the hell?!” Daryl shouted, worry and anger welling up inside of him so fiercely it hurt as he rounded on Paul. He didn’t step back or flinch at the outburst, but Daryl saw his expression change, saw him go utterly still. Utterly ready.

“How the fuck could you forget?!”

“I had a few other things on my mind,” Paul hissed in response, voice low and even but full of warning. “I’m sorry. Shouting isn’t going to help, so either get yourself together and help us think or get out until you can.”

Paul’s words enraged him even more. How dare he tell him to calm down when Carol was missing, when she could be hurt or worse.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare tell me to get out! She could be in trouble! Could be fuckin’ hurt and you forgot to even tell me she was out there! She could be d-“

“-Daryl!” Paul shouted, having to visibly force himself to calm down before he continued quieter, kinder, but no less firmly. “Stop. I’m sorry okay? But we’ll find her, we’ll find them both. We need you for that but not like this.”

The raging anger that came over him started to lessen, leaving him feeling a little bit sick. He’d never have hurt Paul, not in a million years, but he shouldn’t have gotten so angry at him, shouldn’t have shouted at him or blamed him. He didn’t like the fact he’d been teetering on the edge of his control. Not around Paul. Fuck, or Maggie.

He looked over at her, seeing her looking pale and sick and guilty, watching him not with wariness exactly, but like she was bracing for the accusations to swing around to her once he was done shouting them at Paul.

Forcing down his lingering anger and manic worry, knowing Paul was right and they weren’t helping, Daryl exhaled.

“Yeah,” he forced out, unable to look Paul in the eye as his body finally came under his control again, “fine.”

He couldn’t apologise, not yet, but he’d find some way to later. For now, he had to focus everything on tracking down Carol.

“Okay,” Paul said after a moment, still looking too ready and too tense. Daryl didn’t like it, the part of him not terrified for Carol just wishing he could reach out and touch him, could just hold his hand and reassure himself that it’d still be accepted.

“So what could have held them up?” Paul asked, shifting into mission mode.

“Don’t care,” Daryl growled at him impatiently, “just need to get out there and pick up her trail.”

“We need to have an idea of what we might be walking into Daryl. Maybe they got caught hiding somewhere from a herd, maybe there was an accident or maybe... maybe it was something else.”

Maggie leant forward in her seat. “You think this could be something to do with the Whisperers?”

Paul exhaled, looking away from Daryl and over to Maggie. “I don’t know, but the timing is just too suspicious.”

Daryl wanted to fucking scream, the thought of getting Paul back from their clutches only to lose Carol to them was just too much to bare.

“Whatever it is, I ain’t waitin’. ‘M gettin’ my stuff and goin’ out. Just need to start at this end of her route ‘till I pick up a trail. I’ll figure the rest out then.”

Paul turned back to him in frustration. “You can’t just march into something like this without the barest hint of a plan!”

“I fuckin’ did it for you!”

Silence fell at Daryl’s shout, Paul seemingly stuck for words, mouth shutting as he swallowed hard. It was true though; even though he was hardly in his right mind, Daryl headed out to find Paul’s body, even after Rick’s warning of talking walkers, even as he had no idea what he’d find or face. He couldn’t do any less for Carol.

The silence was broken violently as the office door crashed open, all of them jumping at the sudden noise. A knife appeared in Paul’s hand as he jumped to his feet, Daryl turning to the doorway already prepared to fight before they all registered who had intruded, Maggie taking control.

“Al! What the hell are you doin’?!”

Once Daryl really looked at the man, he noticed how pale he was, sweat breaking out over his forehead as he breathed heavily. It didn’t seem to be just from exertion though, it looked like panic. Al looked at them all, eyes wide in definite fear.

“There’s- you need to come to the gate. Right now.”

Ice cold fear shot through Daryl’s veins, seeing Paul rush to the window out of the corner of his eye. Whatever he’d seen had him turning to look at Maggie, face blank but left hand clenched around his knife so hard it turned white.

“Jesus?”

“It’s them. It’s the Whisperers. They’re here.”

 

 

Daryl barely remembered the scramble to get down to the gate, Maggie sending a protective detail for Hershel, shouting her orders as she moved through Barrington, Paul checking his knives as he marched at her side. Daryl dived into the trailer on his way past to grab his crossbow and caught them up just in time for Maggie to nod at the guards.

Slowly, the gates opened, Maggie marching forward to face the group assembled in front of Hilltop, Daryl and Paul following loyally behind her. It was the first time Daryl had ever really seen the Whisperers. They made his blood run cold.

A group of around forty of them were spread out in front of the community, all of them looking almost indistinguishable from the hundreds upon hundreds of walkers Daryl had seen and moved through and killed. He couldn’t honestly say whether or not he’d be able to pick the Whisperers out of a herd.

A shorter figure emerged from the crowd, stalking forwards and stopping a few meters from Maggie. They had a shotgun resting over one shoulder and the confident stance of a leader. Daryl tensed, ready to shoot the fucker no matter what if it even _looked_ like they’d aim at Maggie or Paul. The silence was deafening, the tension building with every second until at last, the figure spoke.

“Are you the leader here?”

Even slightly muffled by the mask, Daryl could clearly hear the figure was a woman as she addressed Maggie. He saw Paul’s hand twitch near his knife as Maggie took a stubborn step forward, never one to be intimidated no matter what odds she was up against. Daryl just knew he and Paul were both ready to drag her ass back to safety if needs be.

“I am,” Maggie said after a moment of studying the woman and the group of Whisperers behind her. “It’s very impressive, what you’ve gathered here today, and I have no desire for any conflict. You should know though, that we can defend ourselves and we will.”

He couldn’t see Maggie’s face, but from the icy tone of her voice, Daryl could picture her expression so clearly; narrowed eyes, hard stare, lips pressed tight together. The face of a woman who’d seen and done and _lost_ too damn much to take any shit.

“Conflict?” the woman began just as icy. “That is yet to be decided. Your people trespassed onto our territory. That alone could be forgiven but that was not all. We found the bodies of four of our people, slaughtered!”

Daryl felt ice shoot down his spine, Paul going stone still to the left of him.

“Who amongst you was responsible?”

Maggie said nothing, the silence stretching for a few seconds as the tension grew. Daryl just hoped to God Paul had enough sense to stay quiet, to not put a fucking target on his back, to please-

“It was me. I did it.”

Daryl’s heart shot into his throat as Paul spoke up calmly, wanting to reach out and drag the idiot behind him as the woman’s hard eyes turned to him.

“Why?”

“First they tried to kill me, then they tried to drag me back to your camp. I couldn’t let that happen so I killed them.”

Daryl felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest, hearing his own pulse pound in his head. He didn’t care what would happen after, if she aimed at Paul, he’d kill her where she stood. He was not losing him again.

After a beat of silence, she simply inclined her head at Paul. “They were some of our best. If you defeated them, you deserved to. We’re all animals now, and only the strong deserve to survive.”

There was still too much danger for Daryl to feel much relief, but the tension of that particular moment passed, making way for the rest to return.

“As it stands,” the woman continued, looking to Maggie, “there is nothing here, nothing of yours, that is of any interest to me or my people.”

A hand moved up to her mask, grasping the top and pulling, revealing a striking looking bald woman with fierce, dangerous eyes.

“I am Alpha,” she proclaimed, the name seeming to reach the whole of Hilltop, “and I show you my face because we mean you no harm. We only want one thing from you.”

She paused, looking straight at Maggie and then, curiously, at Paul.

“My daughter.”

Oh fuck.

He could practically feel the tension and anger pouring off of Paul, feeling it in himself too. The leader of the Whisperers, the leader of a group where she was frequently raped was her own fucking mother. Yeah, there was no way in hell either he or Paul were letting Lydia go back there.

“Lydia is your daughter.” Maggie said finally, a forceful calmness to her voice.

“That is her given name yes. I assume he took her after he killed my people and escaped. Correct?”

Daryl felt his heart seize once again as she nodded her head at Paul, the woman somehow seeming even more dangerous and unsettling without her mask, something that should have been fucking impossible. He didn’t want Paul anywhere near her or her group, he didn’t even like her looking at him.

“Yes,” Maggie answered, “he did. And she has not been harmed.”

“Good. Neither have your people.”

She clicked her fingers and the crowd of Whisperers parted, a small group of them dragging Carol and Dante with them.

“Carol!”

It was only the warning look he received from both Paul and Maggie that stopped him from running to her. She looked okay, miraculously unharmed as Alpha had said, but he couldn’t stand to see the tight ropes around her wrists and the filthy hands on her.

“Nice to see you too Daryl,” came Dante’s dry reply, though from the tired grin he had on his face, he wasn’t going to hold a grudge. He didn’t look as good, the left leg of his pants ripped up to his thigh, his lower leg wrapped tightly in bandages and splinted.

“I propose a trade,” Alpha began coldly, “my daughter for your people.”

Daryl looked at Paul, seeing the way he was all but shaking out of his skin, like he doing everything he could to hold himself back from talking or hell, just fucking killing them all for even suggesting it.

Daryl however, felt utterly torn, something he was sure Maggie was feeling too. They had Carol. They’d had her for days and even if she seemed unharmed, he knew it would have messed with her head. And looking at Alpha, at the coldness in her eyes and the mass of Whisperers behind her, he knew that if Maggie refused the trade, the situation would turn a whole lot worse.

Their people were safe for now, but Daryl had no doubt that if they responded with anything other than total agreement, that would change in a heartbeat. Daryl couldn’t let that happen, not sure how he’d cope if Carol was hurt or worse, killed right in front of him. Just like with Paul, her death would destroy a part of him forever.

He liked Lydia, he wanted her to be safe and happy and not fucking hurt again like she already had been. But was he willing to lose Carol for that? Was Maggie?

“I’d suggest you take that trade,” Alpha said lowly, shifting her hold on the shotgun, her people tensing behind her, solidifying to Daryl that there was no choice here at all, just the pretence of one. Alpha had control of the situation and she knew it, they all did.

After a few more seconds of tense silence, Maggie finally nodded. “I accept.”

“What?!”

Daryl winced at Paul’s outburst but Maggie ignored it. “We’ll need around ten minutes to gather Lydia and her things.”

“That is acceptable.”

“Maggie! You-“

“-shut up and get inside,” she forced out as she turned and marched between them. “Now.”

Paul looked like he was about to explode, face pale and fingers twitching like they were itching to grab a knife as he turned to face Alpha once more before stalking after Maggie.

A shiver went down Daryl’s spine as he continued to watch Alpha, unease carving a hole in his gut and making a new home. The expression on her face as she stared at Paul’s back would keep him up tonight, of that he had no doubt.

Sharing a look with Carol, he nodded at her. She was safe, or would be very soon, and the relief he felt was only slightly dimmed by the guilt he felt at what would buy that safety. Daryl shared a quick look with Dante too, who rolled his eyes in response, before he turned and entered Hilltop. He saw Tara’s worried face as he passed her but didn’t stop to try and reassure her, hurrying straight towards Barrington instead.

As he made his way inside and up towards Maggie’s office, he could already hear shouting. Paul had never shouted at Maggie before.

“No! I won’t accept it! You _cannot_ do this Maggie!” Paul practically raged at her as Daryl walked in. “There’s got to be another way of getting Carol and Dante back that doesn’t involve sending her back to those fucking monsters!”

“There isn’t! There isn’t and you know it! If we say no, they’ll either drag them away to hurt them until we finally give in or hell, maybe they just kill them right in front of us and attack this community anyway. I can’t risk it Jesus! I have more to think about here than just one person! She’ll just... she’ll just have to fight her own corner.”

Paul looked enraged, really truly _angry_ but underneath that Daryl could see he was hurt. Hurt and disappointed.

“So you’ll just send her back to them then? Send her back to be hurt and abused? She’s a fucking kid Maggie, she _can’t_ fight her own corner in this! That’s what _we’re_ supposed to do! That’s what actual, decent adults do!”

He turned to Daryl, something like hope on his face, as though he expected Daryl to speak up in support. It made him want to vomit, all of his words and worries and reasons stuck in his throat. In the end, he could do no more than look helplessly back at Paul, watching with something like physical pain as his face fell.

Paul seemed to visibly pull himself together, expression almost pleading as he took a step closer to Maggie.

“Please. Don’t do this. Don’t make _me_ do this.”

“I’m sorry Jesus. I really am.”

Daryl felt sick; guilt and upset and frustration sitting heavy in his stomach as he watched Paul seem to collapse into himself; his open, almost vulnerable expression vanishing behind a wall, nothing but lingering disappointment left to be seen.

The door creaked open behind them, all three turning to see Lydia enter slowly, her eyes immediately going to Paul.

“It’s okay,” she began, smiling shakily. “Really it is. They’re my people, I should go with them. But thank you, for everything you did.”

God, the way she was trying to cover her feelings with a brave face was breaking Daryl’s fucking heart.

Paul moved to her. “It’s not okay. It’s _not_. This is wrong! I should-“

She threw her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly, Paul’s face cracking just enough to show absolute devastation as he hugged her back, leaning his cheek against the top of her head.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her hair.

 

 

Paul hadn’t looked at him again after that. He’d just vanished with Lydia not long after, helping Enid collect some things she could take with her. As Daryl stood outside her room, trying to figure out how to go in and apologise, he overheard Lydia softly turn down the clothes she’d been so excited to have. There was no point apparently, she’d be wearing a walker skin again soon and she didn’t want to ruin them. They were too nice for that kind of life.

Now, watching as Paul stayed stubbornly beside Lydia all the way up to Alpha, the woman casting another long look over him before turning from her daughter and ignoring the hug she tried to give her, Daryl wasn’t sure if Paul would ever forgive him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself, not after watching the utter defeat and pain on Paul’s face as Lydia was pulled into the middle of the group of Whisperers. Not after seeing the look of grief and longing on Lydia’s face before she vanished into their midsts.

Alpha turned back to Hilltop as she reached her group. “Stay out of our lands, do not engage with us again and there will be no further trouble between our people. That is a promise.”

She was looking at Maggie, but it felt like she was addressing everyone, her eyes once more drifting over Paul before she turned and clicked her fingers, Carol and Dante released by their captors as the group began to move.

As quick as they seemed to have arrived, the Whisperers left, leaving Carol supporting Dante and a community of unease in their wake.

Daryl looked to Paul, feeling a stabbing pain in his gut as the man simply turned and walked away, disappearing back into Hilltop. Trying to breathe around his anxiety and guilt, Daryl focused on Carol. Maggie and Tara had grabbed Dante, leaving him free to wrap his arms tight around her, holding on like she could be ripped from his arms any second.

“Was gonna come find ya,” he said against her hair. “Only just found out you was missin’. Swear I was comin’ for ya.”

“I thought as much,” she said, voice muffled against his neck. “It’s okay Daryl, we’re fine. Promise.”

He pulled back to look her over closer. “Ya ain’t hurt? They didn’t do nothin’?”

She smiled crookedly at him. “As far as being held hostage goes, this was actually one of my better experiences. Honestly Daryl, I’m fine. Dante broke his leg when we were trying to run and they fixed it up properly, kept us fed. Nothing happened, I promise.”

Daryl breathed a sigh of relief, at least that worry could be put to bed. “Come on, let’s get ya inside.”

They were the last to finally enter Hilltop, the gates shutting heavy and damning behind them. It just served to remind Daryl that they’d all but thrown Lydia to the wolves, locking her back up out there in the wild whilst they were safe inside. He looked around but couldn’t see Paul anyway, not that he’d been expecting to. Daryl knew he’d probably disappeared somewhere, he just hoped Paul would be willing to talk to him once he came out again.

He took Carol into Barrington and up to the spare room set aside for visitors. He would have taken her to the trailer but if there was a chance Paul had just locked himself up in there, then he didn’t want to disturb him. Daryl had no idea what to even say to him yet, let alone whether Paul would be willing to hear it. Best to let him have some time first.

Carol sank heavily onto the bed as Daryl shut the door behind them. He didn’t join her, still too worked up to stop moving, knowing she was safe but not able to fully rid himself of the anxious energy shooting through him.

“So,” Carol began after a moment, her voice stopping his pacing, “I feel like I’ve missed a lot here. Care to fill me in?”

Daryl sighed, finally dropping into the chair by the bed, rubbing a hand roughly over his face. “Don’t even know where to start.”

‘Well for one, I was under the impression Jesus was dead and you were... less than okay. Dante said Maggie was worried about you. What happened?”

It was hard to believe all that was only a few days ago, so much having happened since then. And even though he’d talked to Paul about it, he didn’t realise just how much he had to get off his chest until he started to walk Carol through what happened, reliving every thought and feeling, every horrific second of thinking Paul was dead. It was always different, sharing things with Carol, they just got each other and always had. By the time he was finished, it was like a huge block of ice had finally been dislodged from inside his chest.

“You really love him huh?” Carol said after a moment of silence, already knowing the damn answer. He felt his cheeks heat up but he didn’t dispute it, just chewed his thumbnail and nodded. Carol smiled at him, looking proud and happy and almost relieved.

“I always knew it would happen. You both just seemed right. I’m glad you found each other and I’m glad you found yourself.”

Despite his worry over Paul and how he would behave once they finally spoke, how angry or betrayed he’d feel, Daryl couldn’t help but nod. “Yeah, ‘m glad too.”

He’d make it right with Paul somehow, no matter how hard it was. He wasn’t about to lose him now over something like this.

“That being said,” Carol began after a moment, “he didn’t seem all that pleased with the trade. I take it he got close to that girl? Alpha’s daughter?”

“Yeah, real close. Ain’t just that though, she told him things. It ain’t right for her there Carol, with them. They ain’t human. Some of ‘em... they _raped_ her. Told her it’s just what happens now. Sounds like her fuckin’ mom let it happen too, filled her head with all this shit ‘bout bein’ animals now. Ain’t right. Paul promised her she’d be safe, that she could stay here and start livin’.”

Cold anger spread over her face as she stared at him. “How could you be okay with sending her back there?!”

“I wasn’t okay with it!” he shot back. “Not one bit! But it was give her up or you die, Dante too. I- I can’t lose you Carol. Ya know that.”

She sighed deeply, reaching out and taking his hand, her calloused palm as comforting and familiar as always. “I know Daryl, but she’s a kid. I can handle myself.”

“I know that, but Hilltop ain’t ready yet for what it would’a started. They’d’a dragged ya off or killed ya in front of us then attacked the damn place to get Lydia back anyways. We ain’t ready for that and if I’d’a watched ya die, I’d be fuckin’ _gone_. We needed time and for them freaks not to have the upper hand. Don’t feel good about it, damn kid got under my skin too. Just... just couldn’t see any other way.”

Carol stared hard at him for a beat, probably reading more in his eyes than she did in his words, nodding after a moment. “I understand. And I’m sure Jesus will too. He’s smart, he’ll know that logically there wasn’t a better option.”

Daryl wasn’t so sure, a new wave of sickness hitting him as he thought about what might happen when he found Paul, when they talked. The thought of Paul being angry with him, feeling betrayed or worst of all, disappointed in him, made Daryl want to curl up in shame. He tried to keep hold of his anger at Paul over not telling him about Carol, but even that was only a shadow now, what with her sitting alive and unharmed in front of him.

Carol squeezed his hand. “Hey, stop. Give him some time to cool off and then talk.”

He nodded, swallowing down his unease. “The hell happened anyway?”

She sighed, letting go of his hand and settling more comfortably on the bed.

“We set off right away, I was too worried about you. Got about halfway when we ran into a large herd. We weren’t too concerned, just changed course and found somewhere to wait them out. Except they didn’t move on, they followed us. It was like they knew where we were and even when we tried to run, they just kept coming. Then Dante broke his leg and we got cut off.”

She exhaled heavily. “Won’t lie, I thought that was it. You can imagine my surprise when they grabbed us and tied us up instead of tearing us apart. They’d heard us talking, seen the direction we were headed and assumed we were part of your group. They kept us gagged and blindfolded, shoved us in the centre of the herd when we were moving. It’s like... it’s like the dead and them are one being, they move together, exist together. We’ve all had to mask our scent with the dead every now and then but this is more than that.”

“What about Alpha. You interact with her much?”

She shook her head. “Not really. She only talked to us once, just to confirm we really were part of your group. Didn’t seem like they knew about the Kingdom yet so I said we were. After that she stayed away but I kept my ears open. She’s got a second in command and more numbers than she turned up here with today.”

Daryl felt his stomach twist. He’d hoped there were no more of them but when had life ever cut them slack. “Fuck.”

“They aren’t like anything we’ve dealt with before Daryl. They’re different than the Saviours, different even than Terminus. I don’t like this, not one bit and we all need to be ready.”

“Ya don’t think this is the end?”

“No. And neither do you.”

No, he really didn’t. He wasn’t sure how it would happen or when, but he knew in his bones that they weren’t through with the Whisperers yet.

Maggie knocked on the door not long after that, Daryl leaving them to talk, steeling himself for finding Paul and somehow making it right. He was about to leave Barrington and try the trailer when a better idea came to him, Daryl knowing a much more likely place for Paul to be hiding.

With the amount of danger and unease they were facing, Daryl couldn’t imagine Paul would be comfortable retreating from the community entirely and there was only one place that allowed him to be alone but still keep an eye on Hilltop. He hoped he was right, every moment he spent not knowing how angry Paul was with him or how he could fix it making Daryl’s stomach twist. He headed further up the staircase and all the way to the top floor, putting one foot on the step ladder before seeing the little bit of mud on one of the rungs and pausing.

He was positive Paul was up there now, but maybe he shouldn’t just barge in, maybe he should give Paul the choice of whether or not he wanted to speak to him yet. Heart in his throat, he knocked his knuckles against the wooden steps and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Hey Paul, it’s err, it’s me. You there? Can I come up?”

A tense second passed, Daryl worrying that Paul really would turn him away, before he heard two heavy thumps come from above him. Not letting himself think any further, Daryl climbed up and slowly stepped inside, eyes immediately glued on the still figure on the opposite side of the small space.

It was always a tight fit in the lookout, which made the distance Paul seemed to be enforcing between them painfully obvious, the other man not even turning to look at him, just staring out over the vast landscape in front of Hilltop.

Daryl sat his ass down, his back against the far wall as he looked at Paul, taking in the rigid way he was holding himself. To anyone else, it might look like rudeness, stubbornness even, but Daryl knew Paul better than anyone else. Paul was hurt, distressed even, Daryl reading it on him so clearly he might as well have felt it in his own chest.

He knew Paul wouldn’t speak first, maybe even couldn’t; too caught up in his own head, trapped with his worries and feelings. Something about what happened had pushed him passed the point where he could lock those feelings away. Instead, they’d overtaken him.

It made Daryl feel even fucking worse.

“I didn’t want to do that Paul,” he began quietly, hardly knowing how he was going to navigate this whole mess, words never his strong suit, especially when the issue was so damn complicated. He had to try though. “Ya know that right? Maggie neither.”

The silence stretched and for a moment, Daryl wasn’t sure Paul had even heard him, not until he spoke, voice quiet and scratchy. “Still did it though. Still sent her back there to those monsters.”

“I know.”

“They’ll keep doing what they did to her. They’ll never change and nobody will ever stop it. Any progress she made here, any sense of what’s right and what she deserves will eventually be bled out of her. Except now that she knows what it feels like to live a better way, it’ll all feel so much worse. No matter what, she’ll just keep being hurt.”

“...I know.”

“I... I fucking _promised_ her Daryl,” he whispered brokenly, “I promised her she’d be safe, that those things would never happen to her again. I knew how dangerous a promise like that was, how easily things can change but... I really thought I could keep it. Should have fucking known, promises like that are a curse. The second somebody tells you you’re safe, the second you start to actually believe it, something happens and it all falls to shit.”

Daryl knew that intimately, his own childhood memories lingering in the back of his mind. He knew exactly what it felt like to briefly escape the pain and suffering, to finally let yourself believe you were safe only to have the monster pull you right back.

Yeah, Daryl knew how that felt. And it damn well sounded like Paul knew it too.

A sick weight built in his stomach at the thought, his mind going back to what Paul had said to Maggie in her office, the message between the lines too horrible to think of coupled with what he already knew of Paul’s childhood and the deeply ingrained instincts it had left.

He wouldn’t ask, couldn’t in fact, not knowing the right words to even touch on it. No, he’d leave it up to Paul to expand on if he wanted to and be there for him if he needed him. Whether he ever would remained a mystery, Paul always so damn shut off about so many things.

The moment passed and Paul finally moved, turning slowly to face him, seeming to fold into himself as he leant back against the short wall. He looked exhausted, distressed and so damn guilty.

“I can’t leave her out there Daryl,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how yet, but I have to get her back. I have to save her.”

Daryl exhaled hard, heart pounding in his chest. He’d known Paul would already be going over plans to steal her back, known that he couldn’t bare to just abandon her to her fate. Daryl also knew there was no way he could be allowed to do it.

He’d seen the way Alpha had looked at Paul, how she’d sized him up after he’d admitted he’d killed her men, the almost hungry way she’d watched him before they left with Lydia. Daryl knew that look, that desire to challenge someone and defeat them, to conquer them.

Daryl had no doubt that if Alpha ever laid eyes on Paul again, she’d do everything in her power to kill him.

There was nothing he could say though, nothing that would deter Paul from going after Lydia, so he didn’t try. He simply moved to sit next to Paul, relieved when instead of pushing him away, Paul grabbed his hand and held it tight, the two of them sitting in silence, the sunlight that surrounded them unable to fight back the deep, dark dread growing in Daryl’s chest.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about Carol,” Paul said with remorse. “I honestly meant too. Things just... kept happening I suppose. I forgot. It’s no excuse, but I really am sorry. I’m glad you have her back.”

“An’ you were callin’ _me_ an old man. Need to get ya head checked grandpa.”

It was a weak joke, but Paul huffed in amusement anyway, the tension between them easing enough to feel comfortable just sitting together in that quiet, sunlit moment.

“I better go,” Paul muttered into the silence not long later. “I saw Maggie for a second before I came up here. She wants a planning meeting and then to head to Alexandria within the next hour or so. Time to rally the forces and all that. Wants me to go too.”

Daryl nodded, unsurprised. “Ya gonna?”

“Yeah. She needs my information, the rest of the communities do too and I need to make sure she gets there safe. After that... well.”

Yeah. After that he’d go find Lydia.

“Will you come to Alexandria?” Paul asked him, turning his head to look at him. Daryl was unable to stop himself doing the same, his heart pounding as he met Paul’s eyes.

“Yeah,” he finally answered, feeling sick to his stomach. “Yeah I’ll come. Go have your meetin’ with Maggie. I’ll... I’ll be in the trailer.”

Paul nodded, finally breaking the gaze to Daryl’s relief, giving his hand a squeeze before he moved to stand. Daryl stopped him with a tug at their joined hands, Paul hesitating before he slowly kneeled in front of Daryl.

He was keeping too many things trapped in his throat to risk words, so Daryl simply leaned in and pressed their lips together, letting go of Paul’s hand to cup his face in both of his. He ran his thumbs over Paul’s cheeks, memorising every sensation, wishing he could pause time, just for a short while, just to get to have it all for a little longer.

But time could never be paused, no matter how much you wanted it too, both of them finally pulling back. Paul rested his forehead against Daryl’s as they inhaled and exhaled as one.

“I’ll see you later yeah?” Paul whispered into the air between them. Daryl swallowed hard.

“Yeah.”

With a last quick press of lips against his, Paul pulled away and left, Daryl watching him go with an ache in his chest. Slumping back against the wall, Daryl tilted his head back against the glass, closing his eyes against the bright glare of the sun and trying very hard not to think of anything.

No matter how hard he tried though, his head still buzzed, unavoidable facts and hard choices whirling around his brain. With a deep, heavy sigh, Daryl steeled himself, rising forcefully to his feet. He needed to get ready.

 

———

 

When Paul made his way out of the gate with Maggie and her escorts an hour later, he did it alone, a crumpled letter in his pocket and a stone in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines my loves!! But more than that, RIP OPPORTUNITY! *sobs* 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Things are starting to heat up now! Please leave me a comment, they really do fuel me xxxx


	4. Chapter 4

(Trigger warning in end notes)

 

“You’re quiet Jesus. Somethin’ on your mind?”

Paul felt himself reluctantly dragged from the empty, still place he’d managed to force his mind into and back into the nerve wrecking, uncertain, worry filled reality. He felt a flash of anger burn through him; some terrified part of him wanting to snap at Maggie, still angry at her for sending Lydia away, not to mention restarting his thoughts and making him face it all again. It wasn’t like him and he didn’t like it, feeling like he was barely holding on to his emotions, barely keeping them off his face or out of his voice.

Steeling himself, he turned to Maggie on the horse next to his. “I’m fine. Just thinking about everything.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Ya still mad at me? I didn’t want to send her away and if there was another option I would’a taken it. But we both-“

“-it’s not that,” he said, sharper than he intended, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “It’s not. I’m not happy about it, but I get it. You had the lives of everyone to think of. I’m just... thinking. Concerned.”

“Is it Daryl? Did you talk before you left?”

Paul felt a bitter, aching feeling in his chest. “Oh we did indeed,” he muttered.

“Did ya argue or somethin’? Is that why he’s not-“

“-he’s not coming because he had something else to do okay? We talked, we sorted it, we’re fine. He just- he just thinks he’s more useful doing something else. Still hates going to Alexandria anyway.”

He didn’t like lying to Maggie, didn’t like leaving her out of something with potentially huge consequences. This was different though and if there was any chance of success, Paul had to go along with the fucking plan Daryl put in place. If it could even be remotely  _called_ a plan.

“Okay Jesus,” Maggie said quietly, concern still in her voice as she looked him over wearily. He could tell she didn’t fully buy what he was telling her, he certainly wouldn’t have if he was her. Normally Paul could twist words to suit his needs effortlessly, either straight up lying with ease or manipulating the truth just enough. However he did it, he was almost always believed.

He just didn’t have the energy. His mind and heart and nerves all wound up to a frenzy over Daryl and what he’d done. It made him want to throw up, to shake apart, to abandon every bit of duty and responsibility to just run after Daryl and keep him safe. He’d never felt so terrified over another person in his life, the knowledge that the brief moments in that lookout might be their last was driving him insane.

Paul clenched his hands tight around his horse’s reins, the knuckles going white as he did everything in his power to resist the urge to just turn his horse around and race after Daryl. As much as he wanted to, as much as his bones ached with the need to find him, Paul knew he had a duty to Maggie, to Hilltop, to all the communities.

He’d told Daryl that their lives belonged to more than just each other. It was the first time he had to really face what that meant.

Feeling the anxiety swell up inside him, Paul fell back on his calming techniques. He’d learnt them from an old therapy book in the library he’d practically lived in at one point after he’d aged out of the group home. It was a beautiful building, balancing somewhere on the precarious line between old and falling apart but somehow managing to have all the more character for it.

Most of all it was warm and safe, the librarians and staff somehow finding it in themselves to be kind to a hungry, rough looking eighteen year old kid that they knew damn well wasn’t from the local college.

The series of controlled breathing techniques and the steady repetitions of pressing each fingertip to his thumb finally began to work, clearing his head of the extra noise, helping him settle back into something approaching calm and control.

Resisting the urge to berate himself for the loss of focus, knowing it would do nothing but distract him further, Paul turned his attention outwards again, viciously locking his feelings away in a box for later.

The tension in the air was almost tangible as their group made their way to Alexandria. Maggie had decided she didn’t want to chance sending a single runner or even a small group ahead to Alexandria to warn them of their arrival and the need for a meeting. Nobody was sure yet if the Whisperers meant what they said and even if they’d headed off in the opposite direction to Alexandria, the chance of them getting their hands on anymore hostages was just too high. Who knew what they might demand next time.

It was better to head there in one go, escorted and protected by most of their best fighters, maximising the chance that they’d get to Alexandria and could start preparing. Maggie was surrounded on all sides; Paul on her right, Eduardo on her left, Alden and Kal bringing up the rear. Larry and Louie had also joined them, somehow managing to convince Maggie to let them come, wanting to drop off an order of wine or some shit. Paul wasn’t really listening by that point, too caught up suppressing absolute terror and mentally going over Daryl’s fucking letter.

- _know_ _I_ _said_ _I’d_ _be_ _here_ , _that_ _we’d_ _go_ _to_ _Alexandria_ _together_. _I_ _won’t_ _be_ _though_. _I’m_ _sorry_ -

No, he couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t allow it to take his mind back into panic and worry and the almost irresistible urge to run back. Paul had a job to do, a duty. He just needed to trust Daryl for a little while longer.

After what felt like a lifetime of traveling, the gates of Alexandria finally loomed in front of them, Rosita and Aaron on guard duty, just visible over the new and improved defences. Paul managed to find a smile for them both as they hurried to open the gates for them, ushering them into Alexandria.

It was the first time he’d seen both of them since the mess of a disastrous rescue attempt and then his own rescue. Paul could hardly believe it was only a few days ago, feeling like weeks had passed since then.

Aaron was the first to greet him, Rosita busy running over and immediately pulling Maggie into a tight hug.

“He has returned! The second coming!”

Paul couldn’t help but grin as he accepted Aaron’s hug. “Those jokes have never been funny and they never will.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Aaron replied pulling back, “now that you’ve actually returned from the dead they might gain more traction.”

“God help us all.”

Aaron smiled, clapping him on the back, Paul finally getting a chance to cast his eye over Alexandria. He’d half expected it to change, despite having been there only a few days ago. Time was split up funny in his head now between _Before_ and _After_ , ever since they’d first discovered the Whisperers, since he’d truly believed for the first time that he was going to die.

Paul shook himself out of the dark thoughts that never seemed too far away, Aaron catching his eye and looking concerned, opening his mouth but stopping as they were interrupted by Rosita shuffling almost awkwardly over. Paul turned to her with a smile, not used to her looking anything other than completely confident and put together. He could guess why; this was the first time they’d seen each other since he saved her life and nearly died for it.

“Good to see you Jesus,” she began quietly. “Just- well, I wanted to say thank you. For saving me and Eugene. You nearly died to do it. I’m glad you didn’t.”

Paul smiled again, pulling her gently into a hug. “I’m glad too. But you don’t have to thank me, that’s just what we do. Anyone would have done the same.”

She squeezed him once before pulling back and nodding. “What’re you guys here for anyway?”

Paul sighed, looking around and seeing Rick and Michonne approaching swiftly from down the street. “We’ll be explaining it all in a minute. Stick around and find out but long story short, our skin wearing friends.”

Aaron or Rick must have passed on the little information Paul had given them after he was saved to Rosita, the woman nodding grimly in recognition. Paul heard Rick greet Maggie, turning to see them embracing followed by Michonne.

“What’s wrong?” Rick asked her immediately, concern on his tired face. He always looked tired now Paul thought. Ever since Carl.

Maggie looked around them, seeing too many regular Alexandria inhabitants, too many people to chance them overhearing and going into a panic.

She leaned in closer to them both, voice lowering. “Probably be best to speak in private Rick. It’s about the people you, Jesus, Rosita and Eugene encountered. The ones in walker skins.”

Rick’s face turned grim, Michonne frowning but nodding at Maggie. “The hall is available,” she said, “we can talk there.”

Maggie gave a brief, grateful smile, all of them about to move onwards when another call came up from the gates. They all turned, watching as it was opened once more, Ezekiel and a small number of his guard entering Alexandria.

Concern started to bubble up in Paul again, Ezekiel looking nothing like his usual self, too drawn and worried. Their arrival was obviously unplanned, Rick looking surprised as he walked over and greeted him, both of them talking closely. Whatever they were here for, it was nothing good.

Maggie moved to join them both, Paul hanging back to let them talk. “That can’t be good,” Aaron muttered from behind him, Paul turning to see him and Rosita watching the King with concern.

“Yeah,” Paul agreed. “I’m getting a bad feeling.”

“Could it be something to do with _them_? That group?”

Paul sighed and nodded at Rosita. “I think there’s a good chance it is.”

“Jesus?” came a quiet, shocked voice from behind him, Paul turning around to see Ezekiel stood there. Paul was struck to stillness by the look on the king’s face; he looked unbalanced, grief and shock slowly fading to blinding happiness as he smiled wide.

“My friend!” he cried, reaching out and dragging Paul into a crushing hug with a laugh.

“Oh it is so good to see you! We thought you fallen. The Kingdom has grieved greatly since the news was brought to us. Myself most of all.”

Paul patted his friend’s back, wincing slightly as the crushing grip put pressure on his still healing shoulder. It was nice though, Paul still shocked at the reaction his death and reappearance had caused. He still wasn’t used to the idea that he mattered to them so much.

Ezekiel pulled back and held him at arms length, speaking with a quiet, shaking intensity. “I am _most_ pleased to see you still amongst the living.”

“Glad to still be here,” he said with a smile, feeling almost choked at Ezekiel reaction. They’d been friends for a long time, Paul having come across their newly sprouting community not long after he’d washed up at Hilltop. He felt humbled that Ezekiel cared so obviously.

“I assume Carol was pleased to find you still amongst the living. She was struck with grief for you and great worry over Daryl. We were not sure what she should expect to find once she arrived at Hilltop. Did she join you here or does she still reside at Hilltop?”

Sickly guilt spread through Paul’s body, internally cringing at the fact he’d entirely forgotten about Carol for nearly two days and in that time, she was a captive of the Whisperers.

“She’s still at Hilltop,” he finally answered slowly. “We’ve had some trouble recently. She believed she would be more useful staying behind to keep an eye on things whilst we’re here.”

Ezekiel nodded with a small, proud smile. “Yes, that sounds like my Queen. We too have encountered some possible trouble but I feel like it pales in comparison to yours. Though perhaps they are not unrelated. Rick just briefly informed me of the new horror of our world.”

Fuck. So the Whisperers potentially knew about the Kingdom now too. Deciding to warn his friend about what happened with Carol, hardly able to stand the lingering joy and amazement in his eyes as he looked at Paul.

“Look,” he began quietly, “about Carol. Something happened with-“

“-is she alright?!”

“Yes she’s fine, she’s safe at Hilltop now but-“

Paul was interrupted by Rick’s call for attention, his commanding tones enough to make everyone stop and look without him even raising his voice.

“Would the leaders and trusted advisors of each community join me in the main hall please.”

Those in question began to move towards the hall immediately, everyone eager to find out what had happened or to share their story. Paul turned back to Ezekiel.

“I promise she’s okay and you’ll find out the whole story in a minute. But I just want to say I’m sorry, I should have been more attentive and realised something was wrong sooner. It was my fault. I was distracted and she could have gotten hurt or worse.”

He could see the worry in his friend’s eyes, the panic, the same desire Paul felt to abandon every bit of duty to go find the person you loved. With a deep breath, Ezekiel nodded and put a hand on Paul’s shoulder.

“Whatever happened, I know anything you did or did not do would not be by design. Much has happened to you in such a short space of time and I can both understand and forgive if any distraction from it lead to what happened to her. We can talk about this more later, I’m sure you understand how eager I am to hear everything as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, of course.”

With a nod at his loyal guards, Ezekiel began to move towards the hall accompanied only by Jerry, Paul trailing behind, trying to quiet his worries and focus simply on the information he needed to impart.

Though he was the last to enter, the hall’s occupants inside and ready to begin, Paul couldn’t help but pause for a brief second to look at the beautifully carved plaque adorning the left side of the door, the first thing the eye was drawn to when ascending the porch steps.

It was a simple tribute to Carl, nothing but his name and a simple message of ‘be strong, be brave, be kind’ written beneath it but it never failed to make Paul pause. He’d heard Carl had died in the old, half burned church that used to stand where the hall did now. It seemed fitting to have the memorial mark the new building.

With more effort than it ever took before, Paul pulled on his old familiar mask of calm and stillness before he entered the hall and shut the door behind him, making his way through the small, uneasy crowd of trusted people, all of them aware that they had to avoid panicking the larger population until plans were in place. He made his way to the front at Maggie’s nod, standing at her side.

“So,” Rick began heavily as everyone settled and fell silent, “looks like we have an impromptu cross community meeting on our hands. It seems both the Hilltop and the Kingdom have come into contact with the same group, one that they are worried about and have come to bring to all of our attentions.”

He turned to Maggie. “What happened at Hilltop?”

Maggie cleared her throat, all eyes on her. “This mornin’ we were visited by the group calling themselves the Whisperers. Their leader, a woman called Alpha, approached our gates with around forty of her group and demanded we turn Lydia, a Whisperer prisoner we held, over to her. Turns out she’s Alpha’s daughter.”

Paul felt guilt and icy anger shoot through him at the reminder, forcing himself not to let his mind go down that rabbit hole again. He had to keep it together.

“As you may know, Rosita and Eugene were hunted down by these Whisperers after accidentally trespassing. At the time they believed they were walkers. They didn’t realise somethin’ was wrong until some of the ‘walkers’ started talking. Rick and Jesus set out to track them down after they’d been gone too long and they were cornered by the Whisperers and the herd they lead. We nearly lost Jesus. He used himself as a distraction for the others to get away and was then captured by this group. We believed him dead. He killed them and escaped, taking the young girl, Lydia, with him.”

She sighed heavily, her eyes meeting Paul’s for a second. “We locked her up at first and she ignored our attempts to talk with her. However, Jesus and Daryl managed to get more information out of her. To get her to trust them and by extension, us. She gave them information about her group, how they live and what they do, how dangerous they are.”

Maggie looked apologetic for a moment, something like guilt in her eyes. “We promised her safety, a place at Hilltop and freedom from the people who were- who were hurting her very badly. But when the Whisperers came, I had no choice but to go back on that promise and hand her over to them.”

Paul looked over at Ezekiel, knowing what was coming next, his insides twisting at the thought of his old friend taking back his forgiveness once he knew more.

“They had Carol and Dante. They intercepted them just before they made it to Hilltop and kept them prisoner as the Whisperers moved and waited. They were treated well and are unharmed, but if I hadn’t made the swap, they would have been hurt or killed.”

Paul felt shame flood through him as he watched the play of emotions over Ezekiel’s face, always too expressive to ever truly hide what he was feeling.

“Alpha promised no more conflict if we stay out of their territory,” Maggie continued heavily, “but based on what he was told and saw, Jesus doesn’t believe this to be true. Neither do I. I truly believe this is just the start and I want each and every community working together now to build a plan and a defense against them.”

Muttering broke out in the hall, Paul focusing on Rick’s face, watching the way he cast a sidelong glance at Michonne by his side and feeling unease grow in his gut. There was something missing, some fire inside Rick that had dimmed or maybe gone out entirely. For the first time, Paul truly wasn’t sure if Rick would join them, would fight with them.

Rick looked at Maggie. “And why are you so sure they’ll be more problems in the future? If this Alpha gave you the terms and you agreed, why would there be a need to prepare for a fight? Is it just Hilltop that’s been this involved with them?”

Maggie looked too shocked to speak for a second, Ezekiel clearing his throat in the stretch of silence. 

“The Kingdom too has encountered these creatures, though we knew not what they were. A few of our scouts returned to us two days ago stricken with terror, telling tales of talking walkers. We sent more out yesterday and they reported back to me news of a strangly moving herd, one headed in this direction. We thought it best to bring this news to you, only to find the truth stranger than fiction.”

Maggie turned back to Rick, anger overcoming her shock. “Why is there even a problem about being united and prepared in the first place? And why would it matter if it was only Hilltop? Yes we have real reason to believe there will be trouble at some point but even if we _weren’t_ sure, there should be no question of assistance. Since when have you been afrai-“

“-maybe I can explain more,” Paul interrupted, sensing Maggie was about to start a conversation that wouldn’t end well for anybody, least of all them. Rick turned his eyes on Paul, a twitch of irritation in his jaw at Maggie’s words.

“The floor is yours.”

“The Whisperers aren’t like any enemy we or you have faced before. They aren’t Negan or the Saviours, they aren’t the Wolves or the cannibals at Terminus. They don’t just wear the skin of the dead to disguise their smell, it’s their whole way of life. They believe that we’re all just animals and that embracing that as they have is the only right way to live in this world. They’ve abandoned all morals, all beliefs from civilised society, they’ve cut out any part of themselves that doesn’t believe that murder, that hurting people in the _worst_ kinds of ways is wrong.”

He paused, breathing heavily, reining himself in with difficulty only eased by years and years of practice. 

“They aren’t human,” he said with absolute surety, “they aren’t human and they revel in that. Alpha said they just want to be left alone but from what Lydia told me, they never leave witnesses and they don’t walk away. She’s obsessed with the ideology that only the strong deserve to survive and I don’t believe she’ll be able to resist a fight for too long, a chance to prove she’s stronger than us and what we’ve built.”

Paul looked Rick dead in the eye. “Whether soon or in a few weeks or in a few months, we _will_ encounter them again. I’d rather us, all of us, be ready for that. We never got the chance with Negan and the Saviours, but this is an opportunity to get ahead of it. To unite and work together to keep all that we’ve built.”

There was absolute silence as he finished speaking, the room seeming to wait on Rick’s response.

The silence stretched until at last Rick exhaled. “This is a big decision, one I can’t make right now. Despite your worries, it seems settled to me, at least long enough for me to think on it.”

“What is there to think about Rick?” Maggie asked incredulously. “We don’t know when they could attack again or how and I’d rather know we can count on everyone working towards some God damn plan on how to protect ourselves from them and how we’ll deal with them if they do attack!”

“I will not be dragged into another war!”

It wasn’t often Rick raised his voice and the sound of it halted everyone, even Michonne looking surprised in her own understated way. He sighed, getting himself under control.

“We managed to defeat the Saviours but it cost- it cost so much. I will not tempt another one. Be safe and keep your eyes open, but it’s just too damn early to rush into any action.”

Maggie pressed her lips together hard, hands clenched by her side. “Is that your final decision?” she asked him lowly.

Rick nodded. “For now, yes.”

There would be no more discussion after that and they all knew it, at least not in front of the rest of the hall. Michonne called for an end to the meeting for now, the small crowd reluctantly leaving.

Once the hall cleared of all but Rick, Michonne, Ezekiel, Maggie and Paul himself, Maggie rounded on Rick, anger and betrayal on her face.

“What the hell is goin’ on Rick? One thing I never expected from you was cowardice!”

Michonne moved to Maggie, her face hard as stone. “Maggie, stop.”

“No! Hilltop has supported Alexandria from the start, through everythin’! More than that, we’re supposed to be family! I followed you from my daddy’s farm, we all did. I even- I even moved on after you kept Negan alive. Because we’re family and I fuckin’ trust you! But when we need you, ya gonna just turn us away?!”

Rick looked torn and conflicted, Paul noticing a minor twitch at the mention of Negan. Rick was a hard man to pin a tell down on, but Paul was good at those things and he could damn well tell that something more had happened recently.

“We can’t handle another war Maggie.”

“We can’t or _you_ can’t?”

Michonne touched Maggie’s shoulder, face hard. “Maggie that’s enough-“

“-what else has happened?” Paul asked, cutting over Michonne in a way he wouldn’t normally dream of, his eyes never leaving Rick, taking in all the tiny signs that showed the man was troubled. Silence followed his question, all eyes on him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Rick answered at last.

“Yeah, you do. Something’s happened here, recently. Something big enough to knock you off balance.”

Rick looked to Michonne, the woman nodding subtly at him before he sighed deeply.

“When I took Negan his food this morning, I found his cell unlocked.”

Maggie went pale with rage. “You mean he escaped?!”

Rick shook his head. “No, that’s just the thing. He was right there waiting, sat on his bed with his damn feet up, just starin’ at the open door. Said it was open all night, ever since Gabriel took him his dinner. He could have walked out at any point, could have escaped or hell, come in my house and slit my throat while I slept. He didn’t though and he said it like it was something to be praised. Said he wanted to prove I could trust him.”

“Tell me you don’t or I swear to God I will go in there and blow his brains out right now!”

“Of course I don’t,” he hissed at her. “I might have kept him alive but it ain’t to make anally of him, it was to make a point!”

Maggie looked ready to explode at Rick again, so Paul jumped in first. “Was anything tampered with? I assume you checked everything?”

“Of course I did. And... nothin’. Didn’t even look like he left the cell at all. Whatever his end game is, I really think right now he’s tellin’ the truth. That he just wants to build trust.”

“I don’t like it Rick,” Paul told him, knowing how manipulative Negan could be, especially with anyone in any sort of turmoil. After everything Rick had been through, after everything he’d lost, it worried Paul that Negan could start twisting his way inside his head.

Michonne nodded at him. “We don’t either. We locked him back in and confronted Gabriel. He swore he’d heard the lock click and has taken the news very hard.”

“I might have been a little harsh on him,” Rick admitted, “but it’s Negan. We just can’t afford mistakes like that happening. If he’d had any other plans, who knows what could have happened.”

Maggie exhaled sharply, glaring at Rick. “If you’d have just killed him when you was meant to, there wouldn’t be a damn problem to worry about.”

The comment flared Rick’s temper back up, opening his mouth to reply and no doubt spark off more fighting when thankfully, Ezekiel cleared his throat.

“I fear we are all becoming entangled in old arguments. We should focus on the present threat to our hard won world, not the ghost of an old enemy. For that is what Negan is. Whether he should be dead or not does not take away the fact he is but a shadow of what he once was. He should not be trusted or listened to, and we should not forget the danger his manipulative mind and vile tongue present, but he is nothing now and has nothing.”

Paul nodded in agreement, relieved as always that the king was here.

“I propose we set aside that issue for now and focus instead on the new enemy. For that is what I too believe them to be Rick. The Kingdom and I grieved when we thought Jesus taken from us. We feared the arrival of walkers who could talk, who behaved different from all we have grown to know and understand. And I have just now learned that this enemy is far worse than I first believed and that they nearly took my beloved Carol from me!”

Ezekiel’s voice gradually rose in volume, Paul feeling new guilt at the shake it developed when he spoke of Carol. He watched his old friend breathe deeply for a moment before continuing.

“I once made the mistake of turning you away, of believing I could keep my kingdom and my people away from war. It was a costly mistake, a part of our collective history I wish I could rewrite. Do not make the same mistake through those same fears and desires Rick. I understand the urge, I truly do, but I fear it is a decision you will regret dearly should these Whisperers prove to be the foe Hilltop, and the Kingdom, believe they are.”

Silence fell between them all, Rick’s eyes drifting to an area of the hall’s floor. Paul wondered what he saw there.

After a few moments, he finally looked back at them. “I can’t make a decision now,” he began, holding up a hand as Maggie began to speak. “I’m not sayin’ it’s a no. Just that- I need to think. I just need some time to decide whether I want to commit my community to a war so soon after the last. Can you give me that?”

The tensions dragged on for a few more seconds before Maggie finally nodded. “Fine. We’ll give you time to think on it but it won’t change the fact that there’s trouble coming. I know it. Start reconciling that now Rick, before there’s no time left to do anythin’ at all.”

With a nod to Michonne and Ezekiel, she stalked from the hall, Ezekiel and Paul following her out moments later.

Paul knew something was wrong the second he stepped out of the hall. Alexandria was electrified with a strange, sickly energy, people moving swiftly around the town, names being called. He could see worry on every face, his stomach twisting with dread.

He found Maggie and stood next to her as she too took in the sight before her, the two of them sharing a concerned glance before Rick and Michonne finally joined them.

They were all but mobbed the second the crowd saw them.

“- we don’t know where they went-“

“-talked to them half an hour ago-“

“-didn’t even say they were going anywhere-“

“-wouldn’t just leave without saying-“

Paul caught fragments of conversation as the crowd spoke over each other, as much to Maggie and Paul as they did to Rick and Michonne. Even just from the snippets, Paul felt real worry start to grow in him.

People were missing. They were missing and Paul wasn’t sure how, but he just knew it was the start of something sinister.

“Alright,” Rick called over the din, the crowd quietening but not by much, “could someone tell me exactly what’s goin’ on?”

The crowd all began speaking as one again, the noise rising until Michonne stepped forward. “One at a time please!”

Aaron stepped forward as the crowd grew quieter.

“People are missing,” he began, face pale, “and all of them had no reason to leave. Louie... he said he caught a glimpse of Larry talking to someone before he disappeared. A bald woman.”

Paul stilled, pure dread spreading through him.

“Alpha,” he said numbly, raising his voice as an idea came to him. “That was Alpha, the leader of the Whisperers.”

The crowd began to mutter, only a few in the mass of people aware of who that was, their faces full of worry as they looked at him. Paul knew Rick would be less than pleased that he’d exposed the existence of a new enemy but it needed to be done. Maybe the pressure from his people would convince him to help them.

Ignoring the glare from Rick, Paul cleared his throat, feeling all eyes on him.

“The Whisperers are a group and more than likely, a new enemy. The Hilltop has had problems with them recently, as have the Kingdom and now it appears, so have you. They dress in walker skins to blend in with the dead and have attacked us for unknowingly trespassing on their territory. They nearly killed me, as well as Rick, Eugene and Rosita, although we didn’t know they were people at the time. They are extremely dangerous.”

The crowd erupted into question aimed at Rick, at Maggie, at Paul himself. He could feel the panic growing through the people, knowing he needed to control it, to use it.

Rick raised his voice. “We don’t know if they’ll really be an enemy of us-“

“Are you kidding?!” Maggie interrupted incredulously, pale with worry. “Alpha has managed to infiltrate Alexandria and kidnap our people! I think that’s a pretty clear declaration of where they stand!”

Rick was silent, looking between them before Michonne touched his arm. “They’re right,” she said quietly, “this isn’t something we can ignore. They have our people Rick, they came into our community and took them. We need to find them.”

With a short nod, he turned to the panicking crowd. “Okay, we need a definite list of who’s gone missing. We’ll organise search parties once we know who and how many were taken. Get me any extra information you can too; timings, if they were seen with anyone, if anybody on watch saw something strange.”

The crowd jumped into action, Paul watching as Aaron took control of figuring out exactly who was gone, moving through the crowd talking to everyone.

“I wish Daryl was here,” Maggie muttered next to him, “we could really use his tracking right now.”

Everything after Daryl’s name was lost in the static that erupted in Paul’s brain.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled numbly, ice spreading through his veins followed by complete and utter panic, jolting him into action as he pushed his way through the crowd and over to the stables, Maggie and Rick following hot on his heels.

“Whoa, what the hell Jesus?” Maggie asked him as he finally stopped by his horse. “Where are you goin’?!”

Paul could barely speak, fingers clumsy and numb for once as he struggled with his horse’s gear. Maggie grabbed his shaking hand and forced him to turn around and face them.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

“Daryl. I need to find Daryl.”

“What?”

“Daryl’s back at Hilltop Jesus.”

Rick and Maggie spoke over each other, Paul getting more and more wound up by the second, every moment not spent rushing to Daryl nothing but a waste of time. He pulled away from them and turned back to his horse, growling in frustration as Rick put a hand on his shoulder. Paul spun around.

“No,” he all but shouted at them, adrenaline rushing through him, “he’s not!”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean,” Rick asked. Paul’s attention wasn’t on him though, it was on Maggie, seeing the moment her brain put it together.

“Oh no,” she whispered in horror, “you _didn’t_. Tell me you didn’t!”

“We can’t abandon her Maggie. I get why you handed her over, there were no good choices then. But I can’t leave her to that.”

“So you let Daryl go after them?! How could you do that?!”

“I didn’t! It was _me_ who was meant to go! I told him and he went and fucking decided he was going instead! Didn’t even tell me, just left a fucking letter in our trailer!”

“God damn it! Do you have _any_ idea what you could have done?!”

“Wait, what the hell is goin’ on here?” Rick interrupted, anger colouring his words as he focused on Paul. “Are you sayin’ Daryl went after the Whisperers to rescue that girl? _Alone_?”

“Yes!

Anger and disbelief spread over Rick’s face. “Why the hell didn’t you go after him?! He moved heaven and earth to get your damn _body_ back, and when he needs you, you’re just sat there like nothin’s wrong!”

Paul’s calm finally snapped, stepping up to Rick so quick and with such intent that the man actually stepped back.

“Fuck you,” Paul hissed. “You have no idea how hard it’s been for me to keep it together on the way here or how hard it was to sit in that meeting and listen to you umm and aah over whether you actually want to help us. But I had to. I have a duty to Maggie and a duty to my community. To all of the communities in fact! You needed my information and advice, and I needed to get Maggie here safely. If you’d have stopped fucking around then I could have left much earlier!”

Rick just kept looking at him in shock as Paul took a deep, hopefully calming breath. He was pretty sure that Rick had never seen him be anything but cool headed before.

“If you really think I wanted him to go after Lydia like this, on his own, with all this danger then you really don’t know me at all. Either of you. I spent the entire trip here screaming at myself, going over the last conversation I had with him and regretting every word I said that might have made him feel like he needed to do this. And I was never, ever planning to just leave him out there. As soon as I was done here, I was heading out to find him. And now it looks like things have gone very wrong and maybe that’s because Daryl was discovered. So you can either keep shouting at me and pointing the blame or you can both get out of my fucking way.”

Rick stared at him for a moment before backing off with a sharp nod, lips pressed tight together with suppressed anger.

“Wherever our people have been taken,” Rick began, “it’s likely wherever Daryl is anyway, regardless of whether he was found or not. Wait a few more minutes until we have that damn list and I’ll come with you.”

Paul shook his head, pulse still pounding in his ears. “Fuck no, I’m going now. I should have gone after him straight away and now something’s gone wrong and he could-“

“-hey,” Maggie cut him off sharply, “don’t start with that. He’ll be fine and we’ll get him back, we’ll get all of them back. Please don’t go tearing off on your own. Aaron will be done with that list any second. You need back up for this and we need you. So get your head together.”

It honestly seemed both cruel and darkly hilarious that the universe seemed so set on making him face the ridiculousness of his statement that Daryl and Paul belonged to more than just each other, that they had to accept they were needed by the communities and had a duty to them. It’d never before seemed so hard to do what was needed rather than what he wanted, to stay and help the majority over leaving to rescue one person.

As much as he now cursed that fucking statement, it was still true. Paul forced himself to get a fucking grip, to stop panicking and just wait, nodding at Maggie even as his stomach rolled with nausea.

“Fine. It better be quick.”

Rick left with a tight nod, anger still obvious in his eyes and the set of his shoulders, Maggie staying behind with Paul.

“That was a stupid-“

“- don’t,” he interrupted sharply, “please don’t. Not right now. What’s done is done and I need to focus on getting him and everyone else back safe.”

She held his gaze for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Good move by the way, telling everyone about the Whisperers. Can’t promise Rick will let that go easily but it was the right thing to do. He might not be your biggest fan for a while.”

“I honestly think it’s physically impossible to give less of a shit about that than I do. He’s a good man and usually, a good leader, but he was making a mistake for all of us.”

Maggie made an agreeing noise. “He changed after the war, after Carl. I get it, I really do, but with something as important as this, we can’t afford it. I think- I think it’s probably best not to mention Gregory though, okay? Just for a little while. He seems to think we’re warmongering enough as it is. Telling him we publicly executed someone might push him too far.”

It was a sign of how truly emotionally preoccupied he was that Paul didn’t even flinch at the mention of what they’d so recently done.

“Yeah, I think you’re right. He will need to know though, sooner rather than later. Let’s just get everyone home safe first.”

They waited in anxious silence, Paul having to frequently talk himself down from jumping on his horse and leaving, or from marching further into Alexandria to demand what the fuck was taking so long. Realistically it was only a few moments later that Aaron, Michonne, Rick and Rosita appeared, each geared up for heading outside the walls, each with a face full or worried determination.

“There’s nine people missing, some from each community.”

Paul’s stomach twisted. “Shit. Any other information?”

Rick shook his head. “Just that a few were last seen talking to a bald woman.”

“What I don’t get is how she could get in and talk to people without them realising she was a stranger.”

Paul looked over at Maggie and sighed. “We’ve all gotten a little isolated of late. This is the first time we’ve had members of all the communities together in one place. If she was careful, she could easily have made out she was new to one community or another.”

“Well whatever the hell happened,” Rosita interrupted sharply, “we need to go, now. Just wasting time here.”

Paul couldn’t help but agree with her, nodding as the others began saddling their horses and getting ready to leave.

“From what I can tell,” he said to the group, “their territory must start not far beyond that town we had our first delightful run in with them. Once they’d captured me they started leading me further out from there. It’s somewhere to start at least.”

General noises of agreement answered him, the rescue group mounting their horses.

Maggie gripped Paul’s hand before he could move, pulling him closer and wrapping her arms around him. “You be careful okay?” she whispered into his ear. “Already lost you once, ain’t keen on doing it again. You bring Daryl back and all our people back, but don’t be so eager to swap places with them again. I need you.”

Paul swallowed hard, squeezing her gently and kissing the side of her head. “Be back before you know it. We all will.”

 

The old town still gave him the creeps, but the memories of what happened to him there were easily overpowered by his fear and aching need to not have to feel what Daryl had felt, to not have to know what losing the most important person in his life felt like. He’d told Daryl he had to carry on if anything really did happen to Paul, that he’d have to find a way to be okay again, but as with so many things he’d said recently, Paul was finding the real thing much harder to put into practice.

He also had to fight down the lingering guilt whenever his worry for Daryl overpowered his worry for everyone else. Of course he cared and wanted them safe, would happily throw himself into any danger to make it so, but Paul knew they were just on two wholly different levels. If any of the kidnapped people died, he’d be sad, angry, but he’d be able to carry on. Losing Daryl, someone so integral now to Paul’s very being, would be truly unbearable.

Paul was so deep in his thoughts he almost missed a slight shifting of movement between two of the buildings. He moved his hand to his knife, the movement alerting Michonne, the woman nodding at him, reaching back for her own sword.

“Rick,” she muttered lowly, “we’ve got company.”

Rick reached for his Colt, the rest of their group tense and ready, all eyes on the streets and buildings around them.

“You move too loud.”

They all pulled their weapons in an instant as a Whisperer appeared from behind a car in front of them, more Whisperers emerging from buildings and alleyways and cars. A fucking ambush.

Rick raised his gun level to the Whisperers head. “Where the fuck are our people?”

“Do you really think you’re in any position to threaten us?”

Rick cocked his gun, head tilting slightly. “I think we’ll take our chances.”

“But then who will lead you to where you want to go? To who you want to see? Lower your weapons and I will take you and only you. The rest stay here under guard.”

Paul’s hands clenched around his knife at the mere thought of having to stay behind, to not be able to see Daryl or their people with his own two eyes. Short of killing all the Whisperers and attempting to find their camp alone, Paul knew he’d have no choice but to accept it, the fear and frustration of it all driving him crazy.

“How do I know they’ll be safe?”

The Whisperer shrugged. “You don’t. But this isn’t an offer going twice. Come now or turn around a return to your community of make-believe empty handed.”

Rick said nothing, turning his head to look at Michonne, slowly lowering his gun at her frustrated, reluctant nod. Aaron and Rosita followed their lead, Paul forcing his fingers to unclench and return his knife to its sheath, watching as Rick slowly dismounted. His Colt was taken by the Whisperer who talked to them, one other checking for more weapons as a second flanked him.

They left without a word, Paul wanting nothing more than to demand Rick bring Daryl back to him. However, no matter his thoughts on the man as of late, he knew Rick would do anything for Daryl and his safety, the rest of their kidnapped people too. Paul would just have to wait and trust. He’d never been any good with either.

They watched Rick and his three Whisperer escorts until they were out of sight, their own guards moving closer around them. Paul counted seven, all of them with drawn weapons as they ordered the three of them to dismount their horses.

They followed Michonne’s lead, standing close together, bodies tense and ready for any bullshit. Paul was confident they could take the Whisperers if they needed too, but it still didn’t bode well for Rick, Daryl or their kidnapped people if they’d so easily kill prisoners.

As their names might suggest, the Whisperers were eerily silent but ever watchful, making it all but impossible for their group to talk amongst themselves, leaving them with nothing but to stand close together, unable to give any comfort or reassurances other than the occasional brush of an arm as they each grew antsier with every passing minute.

Paul wasn’t sure how much time had passed before one of the Whisperers moved closer, his beady little eyes roaming over each of them as he circled around. Paul tensed when he stopped in front of Rosita, feeling the way she stiffened next to him as the Whisperer leaned in close and licked his lips, the tip brushing wetly over the dead flesh of his mask. 

Rosita didn’t react other than pulling a disgusting face at the sight and smell of the man in front of her.

“Oh you think you’re better than me huh?” he hissed, voice tight with anger at her reaction.

Rosita just kept on staring, cold and aloof. “I think I smell better, that’s for sure.”

“You’re all _pathetic_ ,” he spat, “pretending like the world hasn’t changed, hiding in your little prisons with no idea how soon it’ll all come down. The world is dead and we belong to the dead. We are the future of this world!”

“And _you_ ,” he said as he moved along and got in Paul’s face, voice tight with a different kind of rage, “you think you can beat us. It’s in your eyes. You killed my fucking brother in the woods. I should bleed you dry right now, let you turn and watch you tear your friends apart.”

Paul went still, each muscle tensing, ready to put him on his ass if he tried but also trying to retrain himself. Killing these Whisperers could have consequences down the line, could be the difference between seeing Rick, Daryl and their people again or not. He felt Michonne tense on his other side as the man put a hand around Paul’s throat, squeezing hard before releasing it and stepping back, a sharp grin on his face. 

“I should, but I won’t. There’s someone else coming for you, someone who’ll skin you alive and burn your whole world down around you. It’s already started. They should be finished by now.”

“What the hell do you mean,” Michonne growled.

“You didn’t really think you’d get your people back did you?”

Paul felt his heart stop, the cold dread that had been building in his gut overflowing and flooding his veins, watching as the Whisperer reached into his back pocket and pulled something from it.

“Alpha doesn’t give second chances. But don’t worry, you’ll see your people again. Just not how you hoped.”

Paul looked from the man’s twisted grin down to what he was holding in his hands.

It all went blank and fuzzy in Paul’s head after that. He vaguely recalled shouts of his name before feeling the others join him. He didn’t really come back to himself until he was stood in the centre of three bodies, breathing hard, blood soaking his hands as he held Daryl’s knives to his chest.

 

———

 

From the look of the tracks, the differences subtle but beginning to stand out now for Daryl between the walkers and Whisperers, the group couldn’t be very far ahead of him. They’d had an hour or so’s head start but Daryl wasn’t halted by the need to blend in with the dead.

He moved fast through the trees, the woods strangely empty of random walkers. They must all be with the Whisperers. Daryl should probably slow down, should be more wary but he just couldn’t, his body trying to move fast enough to outrun the guilt and churning worry in his gut, to outrun the fact that he knew exactly what he’d just done to Paul and exactly what he’d be feeling.

Despite knowing all of that, Daryl still couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Paul was safe, or as safe as anyone could be during these circumstances, and Daryl was damn well bringing Lydia back home.

Paul was right, the little blonde brat really _had_ gotten under his skin.

They’d all be setting off for Alexandria by now, Daryl having been tracking the Whisperers for nearly an hour. He wasn’t worried about Paul coming after him, he knew the man too well, knew his sense of duty to Maggie and the communities would outweigh his need to run after Daryl. He just had to hope he’d keep resisting that urge until Daryl had Lydia and got both their asses behind any of the community walls.

Daryl stopped short, stomach twisting as he realised the tracks had changed. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, focusing his hearing on the woods around him.

The birds had gone silent. 

Daryl slowly readied his crossbow, planting his feet and focusing all of his senses on the woods around him. A twig snapped. He wasn’t alone. Shit.

He aimed his bow at the head of the first walker that emerged from the trees, only just managing to stop himself shooting when he noticed the knife in its hand. More began to emerge, each from a different direction, Daryl’s turning in a slow circle trying to keep them all in his sights. He soon realised he was dangerously outnumbered but he’d damn well fight if he had to.

The Whisperers parted to his left, Daryl turning to see Alpha emerge and stalk forward, stopping in front of him and looking him over with cool indifference.

“You’re following us.”

It was a statement of fact rather than a question, one Daryl knew he couldn’t lie his way out of even if he suddenly had Paul’s silver tongue. Instead he just nodded, hands still tight on his bow.

“Yeah. Came on m’own. Wasn’t sent or nothin’. Just want to check on Lydia, make sure she’s alright.”

Daryl could practically see the bitch’s eyes flash behind her walker mask. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Don’t seem like it’s your concern neither,” he spat, gripping the trigger harder as more weapons pointed at him, her fucking acolytes looking to Alpha and waiting on her word.

“You should watch your tongue before I cut it out.”

Daryl growled. “Fuckin’ try it.”

A tense moment passed, half of Daryl’s mind stuck on how pissed Paul would be if he fucking died then, the other half just hoping he could at least take that bitch down with him.

The moment broke as Alpha scoffed. “Drop the bow, we both know who will win in this stand off.”

“Can damn well take at least one of ya with me.”

“And then you die. Tell me, is it really worth it? Drop the bow, keep your knives and bide your time for more favourable circumstances.”

Daryl was reluctant to admit, even to himself, that she had a way of putting you on the back foot, especially as she turned her back to him and began walking.

“Are you coming?” she shouted over her shoulder. “Might as well see what you came here for.”

Daryl had a feeling it wasn’t an offer, her people still training every weapon on him even as she moved forward. Knowing Paul would kill him for this, he reluctantly dropped his bow, one of the Whisperers to the right of him bending to pick it up. She was right, he might as well see Lydia before whatever happened happened. He stepped forward slowly, taking comfort in the knives still strapped to his thighs, weapons following his every move before he was surrounded by the small group and lead to follow Alpha.

They didn’t travel long before they were joined by a few walkers, Daryl seeing up close just how well the damn skins worked to disguise them from the dead. He’d covered himself in walker guts plenty of times, but it was nothing like this and walking unprotected in the centre of it was unnerving.

The trees opened up into a small clearing, the rest of the group that came to Hilltop waiting for them there. Daryl couldn’t see Lydia in the mass of Whisperers and walkers, not until they reached them and the group parted, shoving him into the centre and surrounding him once more.

“Daryl?”

He couldn’t stop himself from hurrying over and pulling the pale girl into a quick hug, checking her over, relieved that she appeared to be unhurt.

“You okay?” he asked her, not liking how pale and shaken she looked.

“I’m- yeah, I’m okay but... why are you here?”

“Came after ya of course. Paul, err _Jesus_ , he wanted to come. I beat him to it though. He’ll be spittin’ mad about it but he wanted ya back no matter what. Was real torn up we had to send ya with ‘em.”

Daryl lowered his voice, not wanting any of the bastards around them overhearing. “Sorry I didn’t say nothin’ back there. Just didn’t think we had any choice right then, but we do now. I’m gettin’ you out of here.”

He saw tears fill her eyes, watched her rub them roughly away and look around, like she was worried anyone else saw. Daryl remembered that, remembered what it was like to hold in everything you could, all the fear and upset, then to be terrified if it ever escaped. His heart broke for the kid, wishing for nothing more than to get her back safe to Hilltop, to help her break out of those deeply ingrained instinct, to show her that she _could_ be safe and cared for.

“You shouldn’t,” she whispered, “it’s not safe. Shouldn’t have come for me, I’m not worth it.”

“Hey,” he said harshly, wishing he didn’t have to fucking whisper, “don’t say that shit. You’re plenty worth it. Paul made ya a promise, that you’d be safe. I did to. We don’t break promises.”

Her eyes welled up again and Daryl couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and taking hold of her hand, her fingers grabbing back tight, like he was the only thing keeping her together. It was a strange responsibility, feeling like he was meant to not just look after someone physically, to make sure she stayed safe, but to care for her mentally too. Yet somehow, Daryl felt like he could.

They had to walk in silence after that, a nearby Whisperer shushing them when he tried to talk to Lydia again. It was still unnerving, to walk so nakedly amongst both the dead and those acting like them, but with Lydia’s small, strong hand grabbing onto his, he found he could manage it. 

After a while, Daryl started to recognise the area they were moving through, a small town appearing in front of them. He couldn’t help but feel his heart skip as they moved through the rundown buildings, passing the corner where he could have so easily lost Paul forever. They moved onwards, leaving the town and continuing into the wilderness beyond, the same general direction that Daryl followed the tracks of what he thought was Paul’s body.

The little town must count as or be close to the start of their territory then, Rosita and Eugene having been pushed further out than they’d planned, unknowingly wandering into the den of these fucking lunatics. Daryl kept watching and remembering everything, knowing his information would help once he returned to Hilltop with Lydia.

They entered the trees, walking slowly through the woods until at last, a large clearing appeared spread out in front of the short incline they stood on.

“We’re here,” Lydia said, letting go of his hand, a slight shake in her voice. Daryl would liked to have offered her some comfort, but he was too focused on the sight in front of them.

There were more of them, more than any of them had guessed. The large open space in front of them swarming with people, all of them dressed in walker skins and going about their work of setting up camp or slaughtering a few tied up animals.

They were also skinning things. Skinning them and leaving them to dry on wooden racks.

“This where ya always stay?” he asked Lydia quietly. She shook her head.

“No. We move a lot, travel with the herds or lead them with us to our next camp. Everywhere around here is our territory and we move through it when we want.”

“Silence!” A voice to their lift hissed at them, Lydia’s shoulders coming up around her ears as she nodded. Daryl turned to glare at whichever asshole it was, hating the way the masks turned them all into one mass of dead, unrecognisable assholes.

They were slowly lead down the hill, the walkers that travelled with them being lead away by a small group of Whisperers, leaving the rest of them to enter the camp.

It was hectic but still managed to stay so quiet, people still talking in fucking whispers as they moved around or sat together eating. Despite what Lydia had told them, he still found himself keeping an eye out for any humans on the menu, relieved at least when he saw only animals.

They moved further into the camp, Daryl’s steel stomach still clenching at the sight and smell of walkers being skinned. It was well done, he had to admit, the two he was watching able to perfectly remove the skin almost whole. He tried to not look too hard at what was left when they pulled it off.

“Like what you see kid?” one of them asked Lydia. “It’s about your size, you can have it once it’s dried if you want?”

He looked at Lydia and saw her nod shyly. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

They carried on moving, Lydia silent as Daryl took it all in. He overheard conversations as they walked, noticing that everyone had some kind of fucking code name or nothing at all.

“How come ya’ll don’t use names?” Daryl asked her quietly, mindful of the guards at their back.

She sighed. “We never use names here. My mo- Alpha... she says we don’t need names. We’re animals and need to live without those kinds of human attachments. We survive by embracing the dead and embracing our animal side. It’s... it’s just how things are.”

“Bullshit,” he growled lowly. “Your name’s Lydia. _That’s_ who ya are. These fuckers can’t take that away from ya.”

She shook her head sadly. “Yes they can.”

Damn this kid was fucking killing him. Risking their guards getting pissed, he moved in front of her and stopped, her sad eyes meeting his.

“You’re Lydia,” he said firmly, “don’t fuckin’ forget it.”

He leaned in closer, speaking quietly. “I’m gonna get you outta here. I’m gonna get you back to Hilltop, to Paul and Enid and your own damn room and clothes. You keep that in your head okay?”

Lydia’s eyes filled with tears again, opening her mouth when her eyes drifted behind him and stopped the words in her throat. Daryl turned and saw Alpha approach straight for him.

“We need to talk. Now.”

He heard Lydia make an aborted noise behind him, a hand briefly reaching out and touching the hem of his shirt before it was gone. Casting a quick look behind him, seeing Lydia’s pale, worried face, he nodded at her. Whatever happened, he just hoped she’d hang on to who she really was, hoped she’d get away eventually even if he couldn’t be the one to help.

Hoping he wasn’t about to be killed and fucking skinned, he turned back to Alpha and followed her back into the trees. They didn’t walk for long, just enough for the quiet noise of the camp to disappear. Alpha made her way over to two logs, sitting on one and indicating for him to sit on the other. Daryl was pretty sure it wasn’t a suggestion, dropping own to sit opposite her, staring at her creepy fucking face and icy eyes.

“So,” she began after a moment, reaching up to untie the fastenings on her mask, removing it and setting it on her lap, “you’re strong. Smart. I’m sure by now you understand how it is we’ve managed to survive for so long. But I’m curious about you, about your community. How is it you’ve managed to survive like you have?”

“Ain’t tellin’ you shit.”

Her eyes flashed with cold anger. “You’d do well to remember you’re my captive.”

“Don’t matter, still ain’t tellin’ ya fuck all.”

She fell silent for a moment, looking him over. “I had hoped that by allowing you to see how we live, you’d understand who we are, what we do. I had hoped you’d carry that message back to your people and make them understand that we are to be left alone.”

“I can do that, but I ain’t leavin’ Lydia here,” he growled, “not when she’s in danger.”

Alpha stiffened. “And what danger might that be?” she asked coldly.

“I think ya know damn well what danger that is. Call yaself ‘Alpha’ all ya fuckin’ want, you’re still her mother. And ya still let that shit happen to her.”

She stared him out, the tense moment stretching before a sharp expression appeared on her face.

”You know,” she began in a dangerous tone, “I didn’t expect you to be the one to come after her. I thought it would be the other one, the fighter who killed my people and took my daughter. He seemed fond of her.”

Daryl’s heart sped up, that same look from Hilltop, that same hunger showing in her eyes again.

“It’s a shame. I was looking forward to wearing his face.”

Ice ran through his veins, hand automatically going for his knife, only stopping as Alpha pulled her gun on him. His heart pounded, stomach churning, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that she fucking meant it and that there was no time limit on that particular want. Thank fuck Daryl made sure Paul couldn’t come after Lydia, his mind showing him far too many ways that that could have ended up.

The thought of Alpha turning up wearing Paul’s face sent a shiver of pure terror and nausea through him.

“I wouldn’t,” she warned, gun steady and aimed at his heart. His muscles tensed painfully, every cell in his body aching to just bury his knife in her fucking skull.

“I was going to let you keep your knives, but you’ve proven you can’t even be trusted with them. Drop them, they’re mine now.”

“Fuck no,” he growled, heart clenching at the very idea of giving up his knives, the ones Paul had made for him.

Her finger tightened on the trigger, her flinty eyes hardening. “I don’t think that’s your choice now is it? Learn to recognise when you are outmatched.”

With immense effort, Daryl lowered his knife, pulling the other from its sheath. He chanced looking away from her to stare down at them, to take in the wings etched on the blade, the handles that felt like an extension of his hand. The love they were designed with wasn’t visible, but Daryl could feel it all the same.

But at the end of the day, Paul would rather him come home alive without the knives. Glaring at her the entire time, he threw the knives at her feet. He hoped she knew that even if he couldn’t now, Daryl knowing a losing situation when he saw one, he would kill her one day. Kill her for what she’d done and for what she’d threatened to do.

She nodded. “Good. Maybe you _can_ learn. But first, I must see your community, your people. I must see how they live.”

Daryl froze. “The fuck do ya mean?” he growled at her, muscles tensing, her gun rising to his head as he made to stand. She whistled, a small group of Whisperers emerging from the trees a few moments later, aiming their weapons at Daryl as Alpha pulled her mask back on and bent down to retrieve his knives. Seeing her run her hands over the blade made him want to strangle her, especially with the look she then shot him.

“It’s not for you to worry about,” she said cryptically, Daryl’s heart speeding up. “You stay here with my people.”

Her minions surrounded him as Alpha began to walk away, Daryl feeling dread rise up in him. “The fuck are ya gonna do?” he shouted after her. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare hurt no one! I swear to God if you hurt anyone-“

“-take him back to camp,” Alpha ordered the group surrounding him, hands gripping his arms. He wanted to fight, to escaped but there were too many knives levelled at him. All he could do was glare at Alpha’s back as he was dragged away.

Daryl managed to stop struggling as he was dragged back into the Whisperers camp, Lydia immediately jumping up from her seat on the ground and rushing over to him as his guards finally let go, disappeared back into the mass of skin wearing freaks, each as indistinguishable as the last.

“Are you okay?” Lydia asked, worry plain in her voice as she looked him over. “Did she hurt you?”

“Nah,” he growled, softening his words as she reacted to his anger. “Nah, she didn’t kid, don’t worry. Just asked some bullshit questions I ain’t answering. Think- think she’s gonna go back to Hilltop. Said she wanted to see how we live. You think she’ll leave it at that? Or will she start shit?”

Lydia looked worried. “I... I don’t know. She told Maggie there wouldn’t be anymore conflict if you gave me up but... well, you followed. Not sure what she’ll do about that. Just know she doesn’t usually leave any witnesses. We always wiped out every group we came across unless they joined us. Yours are different, bigger. I’m sorry, I just don’t know.”

Daryl exhaled slowly, trying to hide his churning anger and worry. Wasn’t the kids fault her people were fucking maniacs. “‘S okay kid, we’ll figure it out.”

“You shouldn’t have come for me,” she muttered, sounding too close to tears for Daryl’s liking. “You should have just stayed safe. What if she attacks you all, because you came for me! I’m sorry, I should never have told-“

“- hey, shut up. None of this is your fault, okay? Ain’t your fault what happened to ya here and it ain’t your fault I came for ya and you damn well should’a told us. If an attack happens we can handle it okay? We done it before. ‘Sides, if she comes at us, she was probably already plannin’ to. It’s not your fault.”

“You can still leave me though, if you have to. It’s okay, don’t feel bad if you have to.”

Forcing down the anger and pain at how much she obviously meant it, Daryl decided to change tracks, nudging her gently. “Are you kiddin’ me? Hell nah, I had to fight Paul off to be the one to come and get ya. Ain’t just gonna leave after all that.”

At her confused look her just nodded. “Rock, paper, scissors is no joke with him kid. Was some serious shit! Ain’t goin’ through all that for nothin’.”

A wet laugh escaped her, surprising them both.

“You’re a good person,” she said quietly around a small, tentative smile, her voice still thick with barely held back tears, “so’s Jesus.”

“Ain’t so sure about me but yeah, Paul is.”

He looked over at her, wanting to preserve the smile on her face.

“He can be a real shit though ya know,” he continued with more levity than he felt, nodding when she looked up at him. “Oh yeah, he might look all sweet but the only thing I called him for a good month at least was ‘prick’. Wanna hear how we met him?”

At her shy nod, her attention finally shifting to something other than guilt and worry, Daryl began telling her the story of how they met. He might have embellished it a little, glad to see her grin at hearing Paul’s antics even if Daryl came out of it with even less dignity than in real life.

From there he ended up telling her more things, just the silly or crazy things they’d done, anything to keep the relaxed, amused look on her face. She always looked so much younger without the fear and tension, something in him aching that she had to feel any of that. It was one of the worst things about their world now, the way it hurt kids, and Lydia had gotten a worse deal than many.

The sudden stillness that came over the camp made him pause in his storytelling, Lydia going still and pale as the Whisperers parted and a figure moved towards them.

He was fucking _huge_ , easily the tallest person Daryl had ever seen and built like a brick shithouse too, wearing no walker skin other than a half mask with long, scraggly hair. He stalked through the crowd and straight towards them, Daryl standing and drawing himself up to his full, suddenly unimpressive height.

The Whisperer stopped in front of them and simply stared down at Daryl before turning his eyes to Lydia, holding her gaze then nodding at her before he turned and moved away.

“Who the fuck was that?” Daryl asked her, turning to see her looking like she was trying to make herself as small as possible.

“That was Beta,” she whispered, as though she’d conjure him again if she spoke his name too loud. Daryl got the feeling whoever he was, he was bad news.

“He’s Alpha’s second in command. He’s devoted to her and our- this way of life.”

“You scared of him?”

She nodded. “Everyone is but... yeah. He would look out for me ‘cause I’m her daughter, would stop me getting killed but... he never stopped anythin’ else.”

Daryl felt that cold rage again, the desire to get her out of here as quick as possible growing even stronger.

“Thought he’d be mad,” she carried on, “that I got captured. That I stayed so long. He doesn’t allow betrayal.”

“Hey, I ain’t gonna let him hurt ya. Ain’t gonna let anyone hurt ya. We’re gettin’ out of here and goin’ back to Hilltop, back to Paul.”

“I’m glad he didn’t come,” she whispered. “He’s a challenge, your whole community is. Alpha doesn’t like anything that could challenge her.”

“Ain’t gonna let her hurt him. Not again. Just so you know, I’ll kill her if she tries. Can’t do nothin’ else.”

He said it as gently as he could, fully aware that no matter how much of a monster she was, Alpha was still Lydia’s mother. Daryl could only be honest though, no matter how much it might hurt her, he really would kill Alpha without hesitation if she tried to hurt Paul or anyone else.

Lydia’s eyes filled with tears that she quickly blinked away as she nodded.

“I know. I get it.”

They didn’t speak much after that, just sat together in silence and stared out over the hectic camp. Daryl kept his eyes on everything, watching the way they all interacted with each other. It was nothing like his own group, even in the days when they lived on the move; there was no sense of care between them, no sense that they’d live and fight and die for each other. They were just a bunch of strangers joined together by the animal instinct to survive. Whether Alpha and her ideology beat it out of them or it was just a natural progression of living like the did, Daryl knew they all truly believed the shit she sold, that they’d all fully committed to being nothing but animals, living with and as the dead.

It truly chilled him in a way not even the Saviours had managed. At least there was a variation of reasons or attitude with them; some fully following and believing in Negan, some going with it because it was the easiest way to live and some, though it took him a long time to allow himself to accept it, who were there because they had no choice.

The Whisperers were a new fucking breed of enemy and it made Daryl’s blood run cold.

The food finished cooking, people heading over with bowls, fights and shoving breaking out around the fires as Daryl watched with curiosity. They really had taken this animal shit way too much to heart. Lydia waited until most of the rush had passed before standing with a deep breath, Daryl hot on her heels as he realised she was heading for food.

He stayed a step behind her, glaring and outright growling at every fucker who got too close or even looked at her funny, even through those damn masks. He stood guard as she grabbed them two rough wooden bowls of meat and the odd sorry vegetable, watching her back as they returned to their seats.

She shot him a grateful smile, digging into her food immediately, eyes still watching anybody who came too close despite Daryl being there. He knew from experience that those instincts would take a long time to fade, if they ever did at all. Daryl sniffed at his meat, finally feeling secure enough that there wasn’t any Terminus bullshit going on to dig in, knowing he’d need his strength come nightfall.

He’d have to quietly let Lydia know to be ready as he planned their escape. They’d go under the cover of darkness, maybe see if they could swipe a skin or two on the way just to get them through the small groups of walkers that moved around the camp, led by whichever Whisperers were on guard. It was a risky but clever way of both defending their camp and keeping their fucking pets close for when they packed up and moved on. They had it all worked out like clockwork.

Daryl was about to talk to Lydia when a commotion began to spread through the camp, the quiet whispers growing to slightly louder mutters, the crowd shifting and parting until finally revealing a small group of Whisperers and- oh _shit_.

“Rick?!”

Relief broke over his brother’s face, Rick pulling him into a quick one armed hug as he reached him, speaking quietly into his ear.

“Was worried ‘bout you man. Jesus told me what happened but you can’t just head off alone.”

“Had to. Was important Rick.”

They pulled apart, Rick’s guard watching them but not getting too close. He motioned his head over to where Lydia was still sat, anxiously watching them. They moved to join her, none of the Whisperers around them preventing them even as they continued to watch them closely, both of them sitting next to Lydia. Daryl gave her a nod, hoping to reassure her that despite how their initial meeting went, Rick was good people.

Turning back to Rick, Daryl leaned in, not wanting anyone to overhear. “Ya’ll okay? What’s been goin’ on?”

Rick sighed, worry erupting once again in Daryl’s gut. “Hilltop arrived at Alexandria, called for a meetin’. The Kingdom turned up too, turns out they’d had problems with this lot too. Your damn boyfriend was causin’ trouble, told all of Alexandria ‘bout the Whisperers.”

Daryl’s heartbeat picked up at the mention of Paul, even as his face heated up at Rick’s words. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Always causin’ trouble, that ain’t nothin’ new. Must’a had a reason for tellin’ em though.”

He kept staring at Rick as the man reluctantly nodded, looking both tired and almost ashamed.

“Yeah ‘spose he did. I err, well, I wasn’t exactly forthcomin’ about sending help. Couldn’t- couldn’t stand the idea of another damn war. Was hopin’ this was nothing after all. But...”

“What? What changed?”

Rage began simmering in Rick’s eyes, an old familiar look Daryl’s knew so well from all their years of fighting every step of the way for every damn thing they had.

“Alpha came. Managed to sneak into Alexandria somehow in all the chaos of people from the different communities. She took some of our people.”

Ice spread through Daryl’s veins. “They ain’t here Rick. Whatever she’s done, wherever they’ve gone, it ain’t here.”

“Shit.”

Daryl turned to Lydia, urgency setting every nerve alight in his body. “Ya got any idea where she might’a took em? She got a secure place somewhere?”

Lydia shook her head, face pale. “No, no nothing like that. She never holds prisoners like that, it’s just not her way. This is- this is new. I don’t know what she’ll do. I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t your fault kid, we’ll figure it out,” he said to her as gently as he could despite the rage and fear building in him. He turned to Rick, his face as grave as Daryl felt.

“We need to get out of here Rick. I can track Alpha, she left here a while ago, said she was goin’ to see how we lived. I thought she’d go to Hilltop, didn’t even know she knew ‘bout Alexandria. Maybe she saw Maggie and her group leave and followed.”

“However she found us, she did. And I don’t think you comin’ here helped.”

Daryl growled, leaning into Rick’s space. “Don’t give me that shit. Wasn’t gonna just leave her here. Ya don’t know what it’s like here, she weren’t safe. She don’t deserve to live like that and anythin’ Alpha’s done ain’t on her.”

Rick leaned back, silence falling between them for a moment before he nodded, Daryl breathing heavily. He loved Rick but there wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d let him make Lydia feel any worse than she already did. Sure, Daryl knew there was a good chance his action would have repercussions but that was on him and he’d be damned before he let any of it touch the kid.

Christ, Paul was right, he really was attached to her now.

“How’d ya get found anyway?” Daryl asked after a few more moments of calming the fuck down.

“Once we realised there were people missin’, people taken, we set out to find em. And find _you_. Figured you’d be right where the trouble was. Thought Jesus was bein’ a cold son of a bitch, sitting through them meetin’s cool as can be when he knew you was out here. Sure snapped once he realised if Alpha came here and took our people, she’d probably found you. Could hardly keep him still long enough to get a list of the missin’.”

Fear shot through him so violently it made him feel sick. “Wait, did he fuckin’ come with ya?!”

“Course he did! Wasn’t like he was gonna stay behind with you in danger. He’s waitin’ with the rest of our group in that town.”

“Rick for fucks sake! If Alpha sees him, he’s dead!”

Daryl barely managed to keep himself seated, too aware of the Whisperers guards milling around just out of earshot. He felt dizzy with the overwhelming need to get to that town and make sure Paul was okay, to keep the damn idiot safe and out of trouble. The thought of not just Alpha but Beta out there somewhere doing fuck knows what caused him so much panic it hurt. They needed to get out of this damn camp and quick.

“Well there ain’t nothin’ we can do now, not till we get out of here. Michonne, Rosita and Aaron are with him, they won’t let him get into trouble. We just need to focus on gettin’ out of here.”

Rick cast a significant look at Lydia before lowering his voice. “No matter what.”

Daryl shook his head. “Hell nah. I ain’t goin’ without her Rick. It ain’t happenin’.”

Rick looked like he was about to argue when the Whisperers around them moved once more, Rick, Daryl and Lydia all looking up to see a bare faced Alpha walk towards them, Beta looming large a few steps behind her.

Electricity shot through his nerves, Daryl and Rick both rising to their feet. Alpha ignored Daryl, even as he stood protectively in front of Lydia, instead stopping in front of Rick and staring at him coldly.

“Are you the Rick Grimes I’ve heard so much?” she asked lowly, a cold humour undercutting her words. “I’m not impressed.”

“You in charge here?” Rick asked her, a tone and set to his shoulder emerging that Daryl hadn’t seen in a long time. “Well I ain’t impressed about being kept prisoner here, or you keeping Daryl here. I want to leave right now, the both of us.”

“You do not get to make demands of me. I am Alpha, you are nothing. You should not have come here, neither should he. You are lucky you were taken captive at all and not slaughtered where you stood.”

She shifted her stance slightly as Rick drew himself up to his full height, that old familiar head tilt returning as he stared her down. Daryl however, had shifted his attention to the machete in her hand.

“The hell did ya do?” he growled, fear erupting in his gut as he took in the fresh blood drenching her blade.

Rick looked down and saw it too, stepping into her space. “What the _fuck_ did you do?!”

Alpha eyed them both, flicking her blade, a few drops of blood hitting the two of them. “I encountered some trouble on the road.”

Her purposefully cryptic words enraged them both. Daryl almost felt like he’d floated out of his body as he lunged at her, immediately stopped by her guards and punched in the face. The sharp little spark of pain settled him slightly as he was wrestled to the ground, a knee pressing hard into his back and pinning him down.

He could clearly hear and see the fear and anger warring in Rick as he turned back to Alpha. “If you hurt Michonne, if you hurt any of them I’ll fucking kill you!”

Daryl watched her lips press tight together, almost like she was suppressing a grin. The sick fuck was enjoying all this, he knew that in his bones. He began to struggle again as she turned from Rick and walked to him, kneeling down and grabbing his hair tight, lifting his head and pressing her machete to his throat. Daryl met Rick’s wide, scared eyes.

He clamped his mouth shut tight, holding back the urge to make Rick promise to tell Paul that he loved him and he was sorry. Paul would know anyway and there was no way he was giving Alpha the fucking satisfaction of hearing the shake he just knew would be in his voice.

“You are in no position to threaten me,” she said slowly, the blade pressing into Daryl’s neck a little harder, “it is a habit you must be broken of.”

Rick nodded, eyes still on Daryl. “Okay,” he said, “okay. Don’t kill him.”

Alpha said nothing, the silence stretching long and tense, the blade still pressed against his fucking neck, the only thing going through Daryl’s mind was how fucking sorry he was to put Paul through what Daryl himself had so recently been through. There would be no happy ending to this though, no mistake, no miraculous reappearance. Daryl shut his eyes as the blade pressed even harder, sharp pain stinging along his neck as the skin broke before it disappeared.

Breathing heavily, it took Daryl a second to realise she’d removed the blade, instead wiping the flat sides against his back, using him to clear the blood off of it before letting his hair go.

He heard Rick’s shaky exhale, barely able to control his own ragged breathing at that close call.

Alpha stood, sliding her machete back into its sheath as she walked to face a much paler Rick. “We will take a walk,” she told him, no room for arguments, “just the two of us.”

“Not without Daryl.”

“Would you prefer to actually watch him die?”

Rick knew a losing battle when he saw one, not willing to test Alpha on this. Daryl couldn’t help but think Rick made the right choice, knowing in his gut that she would have no problem killing him to make a point. Still, it was hard to watch as Rick walked away, Alpha’s gun pointed squarely at his back.

Once they were out of sight, the Whisperers holding him down finally moved, their weapons staying trained on him even as he was allowed to sit up. Lydia immediately threw herself at him, the two of them nearly ending up flat in the dirt again. He could feel her shaking as she wrapped her arms around him tight, her face tucked into the side of his neck.

“Are you okay?” she mumbled shakily. “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.”

Daryl pushed her back far enough to look at her splotchy, pale face, the poor kid nearly vibrating out of her skin. “‘M fine, just a scratch. And it ain’t your fault, it’s hers. It’s all of these assholes.”

He growled the last bit at the Whisperers still guarding them, wishing he had his weapons, wishing he could bury bolts and blades in every one of their skulls. Lydia moved from her knees to slump onto the ground, Daryl moving to sit next to her.

“You should go,” she whispered, “if you get the chance. Just run.”

“Hey, don’t talk shit kid. Ain’t leavin’ here without ya.”

“You don’t understand, she will kill you. You followed her, you’ve seen all this and now Rick’s followed too. How do you know she hasn’t already killed Jesus huh?”

He felt sick at the thought, the fear he was barely keeping a grip on almost erupting at her desperate whispers. Something must have shown on his face, tears welling in her eyes again. 

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, “I didn’t mean that. I’m sure he’s fine. I hope he is. But you should go if you get the chance.”

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, purposefully, he just took hold of her shaking hand and held it tight.

“Still ain’t leavin’ ya. Whether- whether he’s dead or alive, he wouldn’t want me to leave ya and I don’t want to either. So get used to it kid.”

She didn’t try to convince him again after that, didn’t try to talk at all, both of them waiting in silence as the evening drew on. Despite his best efforts, Daryl still couldn’t stop his mind from wondering how Paul was. Every time he thought about the blood on her machete and the smirk on her face, his heart stopped. He couldn’t do it again. Thinking he’d lost Paul once was enough for the rest of his fucking life, he wouldn’t survive it again.

He wasn’t sure how long Rick had been gone but it couldn’t have been more than half an hour at most, the Whisperers slowly moving aside once more to reveal Alpha and a pale, shaken looking Rick. What the fuck had happened?

Daryl jumped to his feet, Lydia at his side as Alpha lead Rick to them. Daryl examined every inch of his brother’s face, looking for any hint that she’d shown him the reason for the blood on her blade. He knew though, if it had been something to do with Michonne, if she’d killed her, Rick wouldn’t even be on his feet. He also knew if it were Paul, he’d have that look he’d had when he’d shown up at Hilltop that day.

So no, whatever it was, it was something else, something new, something that had him shook up badly. Rick met his eyes.

“Come on Daryl,” he said hoarsely, “we’re- we’re being allowed to go.”

“Lydia too.”

“Daryl come on, we both know that’s not gonna happen.”

He shook his head, even as he wanted to be able to leave that fucking camp more than anything, to go and find Paul and hold him tight, to look at him and see him breathe. He wouldn’t though, not until he knew Lydia could come too.

“Rick,” he said seriously, “listen man, I ain’t leavin’ her here. She isn’t safe! You see the guys in this camp? Well they fuckin’ _rape_ her. Have done for god knows how long and her own fuckin’ mother lets em!”

Rick’s eyes widened, shock and horror clear on his face, turning to look at Alpha as the bitch scoffed.

“Rape,” she spat, “why do we pretend that act holds so much power? It is a part of nature. A part much older than that word.”

“What the fuck happened to you?” Rick asked hollowly. “You have your child, here, _alive_ in front of you and you don’t keep her safe? You don’t protect her? You let those sick fucks do that to her?”

Daryl felt the pain in Rick’s voice, knowing he was thinking of Carl, knowing how cruel and unfair it was that he’d had his son stolen from him after everything he’d done to keep him safe and here Alpha was, letting her daughter get raped.

Alpha didn’t reply, didn’t take her eyes off Rick until Lydia stepped forward, her pale face and wide eyes only on her mother.

“It hurt,” she whispered, her shoulders shaking slightly as Alpha fixed her cold eyes on her. “It hurt and I didn’t want it. I hated it but you told me it was necessary, that it shouldn’t bother me. But- but it _does_ bother me. And now that I know it isn’t the only way to live, that Daryl and his people protect their own. Protect them like you’ve never protected me! I don’t- I can’t-“

She broke off, her voice thick with unshed tears, Daryl aching to reverse time, to take her back to being that excited young girl, so happy at the prospect of having her own room, of having a friend and a safe place to sleep and her own clothes instead of walker skin.

Alpha looked down on her shaking daughter and sneered, Daryl ready to tear her fucking head of with his own two hands.

“This emotion, it is weakness,” she spat, “weakness we can’t afford.”

She turned from Lydia and back to Rick, her hand shooting out lightening quick and tightening around his throat. Daryl jerked forward, stopping as Lydia grabbed his arm and pulled him back, Alpha’s guards training their weapons on him and forcing him to remain still. His heartbeat thudded in his ears as he watched Alpha tighten her grip on Rick’s throat.

“If I place my hand around your throat, it will cause you discomfort,” she hissed into his face, “even fear. If I squeeze, it will hurt. It will even leave a mark. But those marks will heal! You will remember the pain, how it made you feel, but in time you will move on and forget!”

She pulled Rick’s face closer to hers, squeezing his neck even tighter, her cold face slowly beginning to crack, to show how unhinged she was beneath it.

“Whatever emotion remains,” she continued with a snarl as Rick choked, “is unworthy of who we truly are! You may choose to dwell on it, allow it to consume you, but that is because you are weak! We, here, are not. The Whisperers are _not_ _weak_!”

She pushed Rick away with her last shout, her voice cracking as she turned away. Daryl watched with relief as Rick hacked and coughed, greedily sucking air into his lungs.

“This isn’t a world for victims,” she continued, seemingly talking to herself now. “This is a world for- for the strong.”

Daryl watched her bowed back with rising confusion, seeing her shoulder shake minutely. Silence fell around them, Lydia slowly stepping forward.

“Alpha?” she said cautiously, reaching to lay a hand on her back. “Mom?”

Daryl jerked as Alpha spun and slapped her daughter hard across the face, knocking her to the ground, not even the knives pointed at him enough to stop Daryl rushing forward. He was grabbed by Alpha, her hand tight in his hair as she leaned in and spoke urgently into his ear.

“I can’t offer my daughter the life she needs here. Not safely. You can.”

Daryl was stunned at the pain in her voice, too shocked to resist being shoved back so hard he nearly stumbled.

“Stay back!” Alpha shouted at the Whispers around her. “I don’t need your help! Fetch the outsiders’ weapons instead”

Turning back to her daughter, rage and disgust on her face, she spat on the ground by her cowering form.

“ _You_. You do not belong here with us. You are weak and long for the old ways, the broken ways. You belong with them. Leave.”

Lydia rose from her slumped position on the dirt, one hand still clutching her cheek. “Mom?”

“Leave!”

Daryl moved to the stunned girl, gently guiding her by her shoulder towards Rick, the other man collecting his Colt and Daryl’s bow.

Alpha turned from them as Lydia called for her again.

“I have marked our borders,” she said over her shoulder, “you will know it when you see it. Take my daughter and leave. Never return. If you cross onto our land, my horde will cross onto yours.”

It broke Daryl’s heart to pull Lydia away, to ignore her still calling for her mother despite all the pain she’d caused her. Eventually she slumped into his side, allowing herself to be lead through camp and back into the trees, walking in silence before emerging once again into the open fields.

Nothing was said by any of them as they made their way towards the town, it’s broken down building still a sight of horror for Daryl. He couldn’t focus on that though, he just tried to keep Lydia upright, following Rick to where he left the rest of the rescue party. The shoved down yearning to see Paul finally refused to be pushed away any longer. He needed to see him so badly it fucking hurt.

As they moved between the buildings, he saw Rick get tenser and tenser, speeding up until he was all but running towards a crossroads. When Daryl reached him, he thought his legs were going to give out on him, the sight in front of him echoing one he’d seen not nearly long enough ago.

There was blood and dead Whisperers on the ground in front of them, horse tracks and footprints spelling out enough even if it wasn’t written all over Rick’s face.

They should have been here. They should have been waiting for them; Michonne, Aaron, Rosita.

Paul.

“Her machete,” Rick whispered brokenly, “it was covered in blood. You saw it. What if-“

“-shut the fuck up,” Daryl interrupted, panic making his brain spark and short out. “There’s still tracks to follow.”

He stalked off without another word, Lydia silent on his heels and Rick following after a moment. Daryl couldn’t think, coudn’t allow himself to believe even for a moment that he would have to lose Paul again. He’d follow the tracks and it’d be fine, they’d just had to fight their way free of the Whisperers was all. They’d be fucking fine.

They left the town the same way they came in, moving back into the empty ground beyond it, Daryl following fucking tracks through the grass again like it was the only thing keeping his legs working. He didn’t stop until he saw a row of wooden post in the distance, their shadows elongated by the sun that’d just begun its slow descent.

Posts with something stuck, something _mounted_ on top.

Daryl stopped moving, everything in his head going fuzzy, barely hearing Rick’s repeated calls of ‘no’ as he stumbled towards the posts.

Daryl couldn’t move. He couldn’t bare to see it any closer, to have what they feared confirmed so violently and so unforgettably. He couldn’t see it, wouldn’t survive it. 

“Daryl?”

He could hear someone calling his name but it was distant, too far away. It didn’t fucking matter. He could hear someone calling for Rick too, the suffocating blankness covering his confusion or curiosity.

“Daryl!”

He moved his eyes from the posts, blearily looking around the field, his eyes catching on three figures. He saw Rick sprint towards them, saw him grab one around the waist and clutch at them.

Then his eyes fell on one figure stood alone, one figure he could almost physically feel staring at him before they began to run towards him.

Reality and understanding rushed back in like a wave against the shore, hitting Daryl so violently he swayed, barely able to get his legs steady enough as Paul crashed into him seconds later, holding him so tight it hurt.

“Thought it was you,” Paul was muttering hoarsely into the side of his neck. “When we came up the hill and saw them I just thought one must be you- I didn’t- I couldn’t-“

Daryl just held onto Paul tighter, so relieved nothing else seemed to matter for a moment. “Thought it was you too. Thought I’d fucking lost you again.”

They held each other for a few seconds more, reluctantly pulling apart as they heard the others reach them. He saw Rick staring at Michonne with the same look on his face that Daryl was sure was on his, Rosita and Aaron looking pale behind them. Lydia moved to Paul’s side, the other man pulling her into a hug and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Their shared momentary relief was over as the group turned to take in the horror in front of them.

Alpha had been right, they would know the border when they saw it. They knew each and every face.

Alden, Kal, Larry, Father Gabriel, Josh, Luke, Erin, Dianne, Rosie.

“What do we do now Rick,” Michonne asked numbly as they all stared at the snapping mouths and roving eyes of their friends.

“... I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Trigger warning for mentions of rape. Nothing graphic, just along the same lines as the comics, but better safe than sorry my darlings)
> 
> Sorry for the delay! Life ya know?? Bit of a warning, there might also be delays in the future now too as I start a new job at the end of this month! But i’ll still be trucking along with this fic no matter what :) 
> 
> I hope you guys liked the changes i’ve made to both show and comic canon. I honestly havent watched a single episode since Jesus was buried and I doubt that will be changing very soon, so Lydia is a mix of comic Lydia and my own imaginings, the same as Alpha.
> 
> So yeah, please let me know what you think! Comments are honestly the best thing in my entire universe and i’m not even being dramatic xD Love you all! Xxxx
> 
> P.s and a very happy birthday to my darling Syrabylene!!!


	5. Chapter 5

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they all stood in shocked, hollow silence, their eyes fixed on the sight in front of them. He wasn’t sure if any of them even _could_ move.

The wind picked up, signalling the truly horrifying sight of the heads growing more restless, the scent of the living finally reaching them.

He saw Rosita turn to the side and throw up out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t blame her, not after she’d seen the haunting way Gabriel’s mouth began to bite over and over, his eyes roving around in his skull.

With a broken growl, Rosita wiped her mouth, pulling her knife out and staggering over to Gabriel, her chest hitching with suppressed sobs, eyes so full of tears Daryl was surprised she could even see her way forward. Gabriel’s eyes rolled around, his teeth snapping, the wood of the pike visible in the back of his throat as his mouth opened. A whine left Rosita at the sight, her legs shaking again as she aimed an unsteady knife at his head only to be stopped by Rick.

“I can do it,” he whispered, “you don’t have to. Don’t make yourself.”

The tears finally spilled down her face, Daryl’s heart aching for her. “I do, I have to. He- he was my friend. My _family_. I have-“

She broke down into gut wrenching sobs, Rick wrapping his arms around her as Michonne stepped up, taking the knife from Rosita’s limp fist, resting a hand on the top of Gabriel’s head before gently pushing the blade in.

Daryl knew how close Rosita and Gabriel had become over the years, two unlikely friends who ultimately became family. Daryl was pretty sure he’d been the only thing that kept her suicidal impulses in check after losing Abraham and then later, Sasha. He was her closest confidant in all things and losing him would change her. He just hoped Rosita would accept Tara’s support and not push her away in her grief as she had a bad habit of doing. He couldn’t judge though, Daryl was the same. Or at least, he had been.

“Can I borrow a knife?” he asked Paul quietly, the other man pale and in as much shock as the rest of them, seemingly taking a moment for Daryl’s words to even register. “Bitch took mine.

“Can do you one better.”

He watched Paul reach into the pockets of his cargo pants and pull out his stolen knives, a brief flash of gratitude and relief breaking through the grief and shock as he took them, his hands feeling complete again as he wrapped his fingers around the hilts.

“One of the fucking Whisperers guarding us had them,” Paul practically croaked out, “made it seem like you were dead. I- I killed him. Killed two more after that. Barely even remember it. Then we followed the tracks to here and I- I saw the pikes...”

He exhaled shakily, leaning into Daryl’s side a touch, like he needed to reassure himself that Daryl was really, physically there. He knew that feeling and he also knew how Paul would eventually feel about killing those Whisperers like that.

“Know it won’t matter till later, but trust me, the Whisperers ain’t like anythin’ we faced before. Anyone deserves to die, it’s them.”

He watched Paul swallow hard and nod, before Daryl turned and started towards the closest head. Kal’s.

He was as gentle as he could be as he slid the blade behind Kal’s ear, even if he knew it didn’t much matter, not like the guy could feel it or care. Didn’t feel right any other way though. Then again, there wasn’t _anything_ that felt right.

Paul moved to the next head along, ceasing Dianne’s groaning, Aaron taking care of Alden. Soon they were all put to rest, their heads still and silent on the wooden pikes, the sick boundary having done what it was meant to.

Adrenaline shot through the numbness in his body as the silence was broken by an angry noise, Lydia crying out as Rosita pushed away from Rick and tackled the young girl to the ground.

Paul lunged at them, wrapping his arms around Rosita’s waist and bodily lifting her off of Lydia before she could reach the other knife at her side, holding her struggling body still as Daryl moved to help Lydia up.

“Did you know?!” Rosita shouted at her. “Did you fucking know?! Were you in on this?!”

“It’s not her fault Rosita,” Paul tried to reason with her, shutting up when a harsh elbow smacked into his ribs.

Lydia moved away from Daryl, standing in front of Rosita, just out of reach of her kicking legs.

“No!” she shouted, voice breaking. “I had no idea this would happen, I swear! This is- this is new. She’s done bad things before, they all have. But nothing like this. I think she’s... _scared_ of you all. You’re big communities, well organised with good leaders and fighters. This is as new for her as it is you. But like a rabid dog, her fear only makes her more dangerous.”

Rosita slowly stopped struggling, her body losing strength with nothing to fight, nothing to attack and hurt and take out a fraction of her suffering on. Daryl readied himself to get Lydia out of the way as Paul met his eyes, slowly loosening his grip on Rosita before letting her go. She didn’t attack, didn’t do anything but turn back around and stare at Gabriel’s lifeless head.

“What we do with them,” Aaron said after a moment. “Should we- should we take them back?”

Nobody seemed to have an answer for that until Michonne finally shook her head. “No. They shouldn’t have to see this. We’ll bury them here.”

Daryl wasn’t sure if either of their choices were good ones. He knew he’d have died to bring Paul’s body back but he also knew some wouldn’t want to be faced with the head of their child.

“If any of the families don’t want ‘em leavin’ out here, I’ll come back for ‘em. Shouln’t have to face it if they don’t want to, but I know- I know what it’s like. To want anythin’ you can get of ‘em back. To know some bit of ‘em is still near ya.”

Paul looked at him with sad understanding, Rick nodding as well at Daryl’s words.

“Yeah, that’s fair. We bury them here for now, but don’t touch the posts. We need to know what the Whisperers consider the start of their territory. We need to know where not to go.”

Rosita spun around, rage on her face as she looked at Rick.

“What the fuck? That bitch drew a line with our loved ones and you aren’t gonna cross it? You’re just gonna let her dictate where we can’t go? Let her control us like that? What are we doing if not going back and gathering everyone we can to go wipe them the fuck out?!”

“I don’t know what we’re doin’! I don’t know where to go from here, not yet!”

“We need to do _something_!”

Rick looked away from her, taking in the heads on the posts before turning back. “She killed nine people. They were people we knew, people we loved. But we have so much more to lose, so many more _people_ to lose if we jump into something without knowing what we’re facing, without a plan!”

Daryl felt as shocked as Rosita looked. He was sure Rick would have been as ready as he was to fight them, to punish them for what they did, to stop them for doing anything worse. He watched Rosita advance on Rick, Michonne going tense but staying back.

“Bullshit,” she shouted in Rick’s face. “If it was Michonne up there or Daryl or Judith you’d be marching us to war tomorrow! They were your friends! Your people! What the fuck happened to you Rick? Since when were you such a god damn coward?!”

Rick’s jaw tensed, Daryl feeling certain he’d shout back or reveal he had some sort of long game in mind, some plan or reassurance at all. Instead, he just looked away.

“It’s not cowardice Rosita. It’s caution. And maybe I would have attacked if it were them on those posts. And maybe I’d have got even more of the people I love killed. So I’m asking you to be better than that, to give me time to think.”

“Fuck you Rick,” she spat before turning and storming away further into the open field.

Aaron moved to follow but stopped at Michonne held out her hand.

“Let her go,” she said lowly, “we should... we should get started.”

Daryl watched Michonne and Rick huddle together, talking quietly, turning to Paul and Lydia.

“You okay kid?”

She just kept staring numbly at the heads. “I knew she was... bad. This is just... I’m so sorry.”

Paul reached out immediately and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “It’s not your fault. You aren’t your mother and her decisions aren’t yours. You’re back safe with us now. We’ll just... we’ll figure something out with the rest of it.”

Daryl wasn’t feeling as confident as Paul was trying to sound; people would be angry, would be mourning and scared. Scared people made stupid decisions and he couldn’t help but wonder if Lydia would be blamed or attacked regardless. Whatever happened, they’d look after her, both him and Paul somehow already fucking involved with Lydia and her wellbeing.

Together with Aaron, the three of them began digging near the posts. They had no tools, nothing but knives to loosen the dirt and their own two hands to dig and shift it, but anger and grief lent them strength, leaving deep enough holes that they wouldn’t be dug up by animals but not so deep as to make it hard for Daryl if any of the families wanted to claim the heads.

Paul was the first to grit his teeth and remove a head from a pike, gently stroking over Dianne’s blonde hair before carefully removing the head, the sickening noise as it was pulled free loud as gunfire.

Like he was laying a child down to sleep, Paul placed her head in the hole, carefully covering it over with dirt. When he was finished, Daryl forced himself to move, taking Alden’s head and doing the same.

He’d hated the guy at first, seeing him as nothing more than a waste of resources, a piece of shit with the Saviours that didn’t deserve to be saved. Alden had proven himself though, had shown that sometimes it was a matter of circumstances that lead people to be with the Saviours. Daryl had grown fond of the guy, recognising the way he’d worked himself to the bone to prove himself and to help the people who had taken him in. It’d reminded Daryl of himself at the prison.

It took a while, grief and shock encasing their limbs in lead, but eventually all of the heads but one were in a hole, the weights on their backs getting heavier with each one. Daryl stopped in front of the unmoving face of Gabriel, unsure if it was his place to move him or if he’d be doing Rosita a kindness, seeing her still stood staring into the trees.

He’d always had a strange relationship with Gabriel, having seen him as a burden at best and at worst, a cowardly liar. Things changed though, Gabriel grew, he taught himself to be brave and Daryl could respect that. His eyes caught on the slight puffiness around one eye and the split in his lip, knowing in his gut that whatever happened, Gabriel must have tried to fight, right to the very end.

Daryl was about to remove the head when Rick came over and stopped him, Daryl stepping back and leaving it to him. If Rosita couldn’t do it, Rick was the next best person, having been close with Gabriel for years. Michonne walked over to Rosita, the other woman resolutely not moving or turning around, Rick taking that as permission to bury the head himself.

Then they were done. Nothing in front of them but long wooden posts and mounds of earth beneath each one, nothing else to show what they’d all lost. The numbness and shock was beginning to fade for Daryl, leaving nothing but biting, acidic anger in its place. He knew he wouldn’t rest until he was holding Alpha’s own head in his hands.

 

The journey back to Alexandria had been silent, nobody willing to break the thick cloud of grief and anger, nobody having the words to. They had to double up on horses, Paul riding with Lydia and Daryl getting on the back of Aaron’s. As the gates finally came into view, the sun setting behind them, Daryl hoped to fuck Rick got his head around what happened, that he’d realised they needed to fight. He wasn’t sure how anyone would cope if they were told to just deal with it, to not try and get revenge, get justice for what had been taken from them.

But as he watched his friend’s bowed head as they rode through the community to the stables, gasps of horror as people put two and two together, Daryl wasn’t so sure.

He barely felt present as they handed their horses over to the stable hand, walking to the main hall, a crowd of increasingly distressed people following them. He didn’t hear exactly what Rick said, he just saw the wave of grief and anger spread through the assembled crowd in front of him.

Ezekiel’s face crumbled at the mention of Dianne and Rosie. Larry looked like he’d been hit, shock and horror on his slack face. Josh’s mother fell to the ground weeping, his father staggering under the weight of what he’d just been told. The new group that joined just looked like they’d fight their way to Alpha themselves to avenge their fallen friend.

It was too much, too much grief, too much pain that he couldn’t fix, couldn’t even avenge. It was a relief when everyone finally began dispersing to wallow in their own grief, Daryl joining Paul and Lydia, the two of them having stayed out of the line of sight of the crowd. It was probably the best decision even as he knew it was only delaying the inevitable. Soon the crowd would put two and two together.

“Hey,” he said quietly to Paul, not wanting Lydia to overhear, “I think ya should get her out of here for a bit. Won’t take long for people to figure it out and when they do, it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

Paul nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. Think Rick will be okay if I took her to his guest bedroom?”

“Think by the time he finds out, we’ll have other shit to deal with.”

He watched Paul nudge Lydia and suggest they go somewhere more comfortable. Lydia wasn’t stupid and would probably realise more people would react like Rosita had, but she agreed easily enough, smiling weak and shaky at Daryl as Paul gently ushered her away.

Daryl watched them go, keeping an eye on the far too many side streets and hiding places between them and Rick’s house. It wasn’t new to him, looking for danger even in somewhere that should be safe, should be _home_ , but it was chilling that this time it was more from necessity than old, paranoid habit. He didn’t relax until he saw them enter the house.

Turning back to observing the entrance to the meeting hall, he noticed that neither Rick nor Michonne had come out yet. It wasn’t until he saw the first few people storm inside that he realised that was probably by design. It didn’t take long before angry, grief stricken shouting could be heard from inside, no words audible but the general meaning as solid as stone. Revenge, they all wanted revenge.

Over the next fifteen minutes or so, Daryl watched a continuous herd of people entering and exiting the hall, shouting and crying all too obvious from within. As hard as he knew it would be for Rick and Michonne to weather it, he knew that they could. Or maybe that was just him trying to placate his guilt over staying outside.

By the time Paul joined him once again, the flood of people had trickled down, Louie having stormed out of the hall a few minutes ago with nobody entering after him. It might well have been cowardice to stay out of the way, to avoid having to deal with the grief and the anger of the people entering that hall, but he knew himself well enough to know when to get the fuck out of dodge. He wouldn’t be of any help, he barely even knew the people of Alexandria anymore. These were Rick and Michonne’s people, he’d just be in the way.

Still, he couldn’t wash his hands of it all completely. With a tense glance at Paul, they both entered the hall once more, Daryl’s gut clenching in warning as Rick looked up at them both, face exhausted but full of simmering anger.

“Jesus, could you go get Maggie for me. Now.”

With a slight glance in Daryl’s direction, Paul left, only Daryl, Rick and Michonne remaining.

He should ask if Rick was okay, but it was a pointless waste of oxygen. None of them were okay. It’d probably be more useful to ask what he wanted with Maggie, but by the time he’d figured out a way to ask, Paul returned with her by his side.

She looked exhausted and angry, her eyes flinty as she looked at Rick, stopping in front of the desk he was leaning against. Silence spread over the hall.

“Louie just said somethin’ strange,” Rick began, voice empty and placid in a way that made Daryl’s hair stand up, “somethin’ I want you to clear up for me. Everyone who’s been in here has been demanding action, demanding us to set out to get revenge on these Whisperers. I’ve told them all, we need to think, we can’t just rush into something like that. Most just left angry at me, but Louie said somethin’ else. He said you should be in charge instead of me. Said you weren’t afraid to take care of a problem. He said you had the balls to kill when it was needed, to get justice and make a point.”

Fuck. He felt Paul tense at his side, always ready to intervene. Daryl just felt his heart speed up. He’d known this was coming, that the Gregory issue would come out eventually, he just wished it wasn’t at the exact worst time possible.

Maggie said nothing, just stared hard at Rick, her hands clenched into fists by her side as he pushed off the desk and moved closer to her.

“Why would he say that?” Rick asked into the tense silence that followed, a dark undertone to his voice. “What _specifically_ was he referring to?”

“Don’t try to play me like that Rick,” she spat, “he obviously said more. You clearly already know and you’ve clearly already formed judgment without even hearing me out so what’s the point?”

“I want to hear you say it God damn it!”

“Fine! Gregory’s dead. I killed him, executed him even!”

Rage and disbelief spread across Rick’s face as he looked over Maggie. “How could you do that?! How could you betray all of the things we’ve worked so hard for, sacrificed so much for?! We’d all agreed, no killing! Not anymore!”

“No Rick,” she hissed at him, “you told us that. You told us that you were keeping Negan alive, no matter how many people wanted, or hell, fucking _needed_ him dead! You didn’t care! Because Rick Grimes decreed it and we all have to fall in line! But fuck that Rick. I’m the leader of Hilltop, what I say there goes and after someone tried to _murder_ me, to leave my damn kid an orphan and a whole community in disarray, all because he hates me for taking over and wanted to steal it back, you really expect me to let that go?”

She shook her head, lip curling in disgust. “Hell no Rick. I needed to punish him and let everyone know that even if _your_ community allows killers and dangerous fucking animals to live, Hilltop doesn’t. You can be a coward all you want, but I’m not!”

Daryl’s heart shot into his throat as Rick seemed to snap, face changing to something he didn’t even recognise, not from Rick at least. Daryl jolted forward but not quick enough to stop Rick from shoving Maggie hard, her ass hitting the floor as she looked up at him with shock.

She jumped to her feet and punched Rick square in the face, bloodying his lip, his head snapping to the side before turning back to her with such fury that both Daryl and Paul rushed forward to intervene. It wasn’t needed though, not with the way that Michonne planted herself between Rick and Maggie, facing him with a look of restrained but burning rage.

Rick went white and staggered back, as though her look alerted him to what he was about to do, to what he could have done, and filled him with shame.

“I’m- I-“ he stuttered desperately, “I didn’t mean...”

Nobody spoke as he turned to each of them, nothing but cold stares answering him before he turned back to Maggie.

“Maggie,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry... I don’t know what I was-“

“Yes you did,” Maggie whispered, her usual confidence cracking for a brief moment, reminding Daryl of that girl back at the farm, young and untested.

Rick started forward, Michonne moving out of his way at some unspoken signal between them as Rick moved to drop to his knees in front of Maggie, looking up at her with wide, haunted eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Maggie. It’s just- it’s this, it’s all this. It’s all happening again, over and over, it never fucking _stops_. We fight, we win, we fight again. I wasn’t- I’m not ready for this. Not again.”

Daryl felt sick, like he was watching the very foundations of the earth shudder and break apart. He’d seen Rick in some truly fucked up states before, but this was different. This wasn’t him breaking, it was him unraveling completely, his head bowing as his shoulders shook.

Maggie hesitated a moment before she lowered herself to the floor in front of him, placing a shaking hand to the side of his face.

“None of us are ready,” she said quietly, “how could we be? This is something so new. None of us should have to fight again Rick, you shouldn’t have to fight. I shouldn’t. This is our world though, one we’ve- one we’ve sacrificed so much for. I can’t lose it now. If we have to fight again then that’s what we’ll do.”

Her voice shook, tears welling up in her eyes as she made Rick look at her. “And as someone smarter than both of us once said, we can make it together, but _only_ together.”

Daryl had to look away then, that old familiar grief rising up in the back of his throat. He felt Paul press his shoulder against him, that tiny show of support making his eyes prick. He saw Maggie and Rick rise out of the corner of his eye, turning back to see them embrace and pull apart, wiping at their eyes.

Paul cleared his throat. “I think we should all go get some rest. There’s nothing else that can be done tonight. We’ll come back to it tomorrow.”

Nobody wanted to argue, Rick staggering to Michonne’s side, her hand on his arm seemingly the only thing keeping him upright as they left the hall. As Daryl’s eyes fell on Maggie stood alone in the room, still watching where Michonne and Rick had left, he was suddenly hyper aware of him and Paul stood side by side.

“Hey,” he said quietly to Paul, “you go on ahead. Check on Lydia or whatever. Just gonna talk to Maggie for a minute.”

An odd look passed over Paul’s face as he looked over at Maggie, realisation hitting him as he turned back to Daryl with sad eyes, nodding at him and leaving with a quick press of his hand against Maggie’s back.

Silence fell in the hall for a moment, the sound of stilted breathing the only thing filling the room. Slowly, Daryl moved to Maggie’s side, reaching his arm out and gently pulling her into a hug.

She was stiff for a brief second before collapsing into him, burying her face in his neck, her arms wrapping tight around him, her fingers digging into his back as her chest hitched, little choked off noises all that managed to escape her.

“‘S okay,” he whispered against her hair, his heart aching for her, “I know. It ain’t fair.”

Though she’d moved forward and kept it together in a way Daryl knew he never could have, not in a million years, there were still moments where Glenn’s absence hit her hard. In a room where everyone had someone to turn to except her, it was a wonder she hadn’t cracked a lot sooner.

“I just- I just miss him,” she choked out, voice thick with the tears she was still stubbornly trying to hold back. “It never goes away, but most of the time, I can be okay. I have to be. But then somethin’ will happen and I just _want_ him. I’m so fucking scared of what’s coming and I just want him to hold me and say it’ll be okay as long- as long as we’re together.”

He stroked her back, heart breaking for her. He’d had a brief taste of the pain she always felt and that was more than enough for him. How she was able to stand every day and do what she did, he’d never know.

“God I just... I just miss him,” she whispered finally, before the damn broke and she began to cry.

There were no words he could think of to say, so he stayed silent, just holding her and letting her cry. Maybe that was the best thing he could do for her, just be there to keep her up, to let her break down knowing there was someone there to pick her up once she was done.

Daryl wasn’t sure how long it took for her sobs to wind down, her shaking, heaving body stilling gradually until finally she pulled away, wiping at the snot and tears all over her face with the sleeve of her shirt.

“God I’m a mess,” she said with a small, deprecating grin. It looked more like a grimace to Daryl. “Sorry about your shirt.”

Daryl shrugged. “Pretty sure this is Paul’s, so fuck it. He can deal with it.”

A choked laugh left her, surprising them both. “Thanks Daryl,” she said quietly, “for staying with me.”

“Ain’t no bother, we’re family. Gotta look out for each other. I know- I know I’m not the right person, I ain’t him. But I’m still here, whenever ya need me. Paul too.”

She smiled weakly. “I know. Thank you. Come on, lets get out of here. Could both use some sleep before tomorrow. I’ve got a feeling it’s gonna be a tough one.”

Daryl stayed by her side the whole way to the guest house she’d been given the use of, squeezing her tight when she hugged him goodbye and went inside.

It was dark and quiet as he made his way through Alexandria, not a soul outside. There was a heavy blanket of grief over the whole place, something almost tangible and choking in the air. It was a relief to make it to Rick’s house, sneaking in quietly, seeing the shapes of Rick and Michonne sat at the kitchen table talking in hushed voices.

He assumed Paul would have known to come here, unable to think of anywhere else he’d have hidden himself, not when Lydia was still in Rick’s guest room. Daryl stopped at said door on his way past, pressing his ear against the wood and hearing nothing but silence inside. He hoped she was getting some sleep.

Moving on, he crept up the stairs to his old attic room, knocking gently and entering slowly.

He half expected Paul to be in bed, trying hopelessly to sleep, but found him sat on the threadbare rug under the wonky floor lamp instead, legs crossed with his torso bent forward over them, scribbling madly in the sketchbook spread out in front of him. His hair was ruffled and slightly damp, all of him looking rumpled and clean but tired in every line of his body, even as he concentrated so intensely.

He almost didn’t seem to notice Daryl at first, only looking up when Daryl deliberately stood on the squeaky floorboard.

“Hey,” Daryl muttered, the silence too heavy to find the strength to fully break. “What ya doin’?”

Paul didn’t reply, just held up the sketchbook for him to see, Daryl walking closer to get a better look. His heart clenched at the beautiful pencil sketch of Father Gabriel.

“Gonna draw them all,” Paul said at last, voice scratchy, “everyone who died. I want to make sure their loved ones have at least one picture of them. Losing someone is hard enough. Losing them from your life, losing the sound of their voice or their touch. But not even having a picture of them? Knowing you will never even be able to just look at their faces again, knowing one day your memory of them will get fuzzy or fade entirely? It’s a different kind of hell, a different kind of grief. If I can give them this at least, I will.”

Without warning, Daryl felt the back of his throat tighten, eyes burning as he held back tears. He knew that all too well, knew just what he’d give to have a picture of Merle, of Beth, of Denise and Glenn and Carl. Everyone they’d lost. He took the sketchbook from Paul’s hands, dropping gracelessly next to him on the rug and flicking through the pages.

The first few were filled with children’s scribbles, Paul quietly explaining that he’d got the book from what passed for Alexandria’s school, but the following few pages had stunningly detailed pencil drawings of Alden and Kal, Father Gabe’s still half finished.

“They’re good,” he finally croaked, “beautiful. ‘S good of ya, doin’ that for the families. Gonna mean a lot to ‘em.”

Paul smiled, tired and sad as he leaned into Daryl’s side. “Won’t bring them back. I should have been able to bring them back alive. This is the least I can do.”

Daryl wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing Paul or any of them could have done, but it’d just be as hypocritical as it was pointless; Daryl felt the same and he knew the rest of the rescue team did too. Instead, he just took hold of Paul’s free hand, the two of them sitting together in the small circle of light, the darkness of the room surrounding them.

 

Paul sighed deeply some time later as he put the finishing touches to Dianne’s hair, gently blowing the tiny shards of pencil lead from the page and closing the book, the quiet noise breaking Daryl out of the trancelike state he’d slipped into. Paul turned to sit facing Daryl straight on, both of them still in their little cocoon of light. Daryl had a feeling the dark would be breaking through again very soon.

“Lydia can’t stay here,” Paul began quietly, “it’s too dangerous for her. I know you’ve thought that too and you’re right. The people are angry, rightly so, but they’re scared too. Fear, anger and grief are a dangerous combination and I can’t help but wonder how long it will take them to realise we have Alpha’s daughter here with us. She needs to go back to Hilltop or even the Kingdom, she just needs to not be here right now. And... I think you should be the one to take her.”

“Fuck that Paul,“ Daryl growled immediately, “we ain’t splittin’ up again! We can both go!”

Daryl’s heart was pounding in his chest just at the thought of them having to part again, for fuck knows how long. Everything bad that had happened recently happened when they were apart. Daryl was sick of it.

“I wish we could Daryl, but one of us needs to stay here. I can keep an eye on Maggie until she’s ready to leave and I can help manage the situation.”

A small smile appeared on Paul’s face as he reached out and grabbed Daryl’s hand with a squeeze. “You have many fine skills Daryl, but holding your tongue around people being idiots isn’t one of them. I think I can help keep some calm and control over this shit storm of a situation and you’re the best at tracking that we have. Fuck knows if the little group of Whisperers that Ezekiel saw near the Kingdom are some kind of guard or lookout, but you’ve got the best chance of getting around them and making sure you aren’t followed.”

“This is bullshit,” Daryl hissed, knowing Paul was right but frustrated and angry about it regardless. Not to mention fucking _scared_.

“I know,” Paul said quietly. “Seems like something’s always keeping us apart lately. Seems like I’m always having to give you up for the greater good.”

Paul’s expression grew grimmer, reaching out to grab one of Daryl’s hands.

“When- when I thought it was you, on those pikes, I just... froze. Shut down. I couldn’t think or move or even fucking breathe. I’m terrified of letting you out of my sight, to send you off out into the unknown again and having to stay here with the panic and the anger and the fucking politics of it all. I just can’t see another way.”

The worst part of it all was the absolute knowledge in both of them that Paul was right, there really was no other or better way. Daryl knew Lydia couldn’t stay at Alexandria without being in danger and he’d be damned if he saw her get hurt now.

“Fine,” he said at last. “Fine, I’ll take her tonight, make sure we ain’t seen. If you ain’t at Hilltop in two days though, I’m comin’ back.”

Paul nodded, a small smile on his face. “Wouldn’t expect anything less. As soon as Maggie’s ready to move, I’ll be there.”

They lapsed into silence again, Daryl trying to stave off the panic that kept erupting in his gut when he thought of leaving Paul alone here. Alexandria was a powder keg and Daryl knew it wouldn’t take much to set it off. He just hoped Paul could either stop that happening or at least get the hell out of dodge before it did.

“Do you think it was our fault,” Daryl asked into the silence, unable to keep quiet anymore with the stubborn guilt gnawing away at his bones, “what happened to them all? Was it me goin’ after Lydia that made Alpha do that?”

Paul sighed, running his thumb over Daryl’s rough knuckles.

“I don’t know Daryl,” he said finally. “I wish I did. I’d like to think that it wasn’t, that it was a coincidence or even that our actions just made her speed up on plans she already had. My gut says it leans towards that. But I can’t get rid of the guilt either, the worry that we had something to do with this. All I know for sure is that it’s done and everyone still living needs us. We have to put it aside for now.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Yeah, I know. I-“ Paul broke off, looking down at his hands. “When I killed those people, The Whisperers that were guarding us in that town, I didn’t even think. One of them was taunting us, kept perving on Rosita, trying to get us all to react. I should have been able to keep my cool and at first I did. He told me I’d killed his brother, back in the woods when I’d been captured, said he wanted to kill me but there was already someone coming, someone who’d ‘skin me alive’ or some shit. I didn’t even blink. Then he, well, he all but spelt out that they’d done something terrible. I felt sick, felt anxious as fuck but still in control. Right until he showed me your knives.”

Daryl’s could see just how much everything was eating at Paul, wearing him down to the bone now that he’d dropped his mask, nobody but the two of them in their own little world.

“I don’t even remember killing him, not really. I killed the other two when they attacked and I’m pretty sure I’d have finished the rest off if Michonne, Rosita and Aaron hadn’t beat me to it. I barely even feel guilty, not really. Ever since what Gregory did, what _we_ did to _him_ , something’s changed. _I_ changed. I’m not sure I like it.”

Daryl’s heart broke for Paul, for the conflict and confusion within him, for the way this fucking world was chipping away at him, finally starting to drag him down with the rest of them.

“You’re still good,” Daryl said after a moment, looking right into Paul’s eyes and hoping to fuck he’d understand just how much Daryl meant it. “You’re so good and no matter how ya change, no matter how shit or how dark this all gets, there ain’t nowhere you can’t come back from. ‘S what you showed me anyways, after the war was over. Ya helped me come back. I’ll do the same for you.”

Daryl saw Paul swallow hard, eyes worryingly wet for a few seconds before he cleared his throat roughly and nodded, squeezing Daryl’s hand hard. He didn’t seem to want to say anything else after that, so Daryl just squeezed Paul’s hand back. It was enough, their own little language; the promise of support, the lending of strength, the reassurance that they were both still there and still holding on.

“Gonna go shower,” Daryl said after a little while, almost smirking at the thought that back at Hilltop, Carol just got a rush of satisfaction for no apparent reason.

“‘Kay. Your pack’s in the corner.”

Daryl pressed a quick kiss to Paul’s head as the man opened the sketchbook again, flipping through his drawings with a critical eye. As much as he wanted to just sit at Paul’s side and never move, to be lured into that relaxed, hazy state by the warmth of the man next to him and the steady, rhythmic scratched of pencil against paper, he really did want to get rid of the sweat on him and the faint smell of death he wasn’t even sure was real or imagined.

The main bathroom was the floor below, Daryl grabbing some sweatpants and a shirt before quietly making his way down, hoping to God he didn’t bump into anyone. The last thing he wanted was to have to talk right now.

As tempting and enjoyable as the real hot water of Alexandria was, Daryl didn’t stay under it for long, wanting to get back to Paul for what few hours they had left until Daryl had to leave. Drying off with one of the big, soft towels in the bathroom, resolving to steal one for Paul before they left, Daryl dressed, brushed his teeth with the weird homemade toothpaste that all the communities had and made his way back up to the attic.

Paul was still sat on the floor sketching as Daryl came in, shutting the door firmly behind him and dropping heavily onto the mattress on the floor that had been his bed for a long time. It wasn’t right, Daryl thought as he tried to get comfortable, and he couldn’t help but miss the bed back at Hilltop. _Their_ bed.

“Hey,” he said into the silence, Paul pausing and looking at him, “you still messin’ with those?”

Paul shrugged. “Just putting some finishing touches, making sure they’re as life like as possible. It’s- well, it’s always harder when they aren’t in front of me. Just hoping I’ve remembered them all right.”

“They’re great, ain’t gonna be no complaints. Can check em again in the mornin’ if ya want. Just- come here. Ain’t got long with ya.”

He felt almost shy saying it, far too transparent in his yearning to hold Paul close until he was forced to leave him again. He was getting fucking sick of it.

But as always, Paul never made him feel embarrassed, never made him feel shame about anything, just smiling softly at him as he closed the sketchbook and stood. He stretched with a deep groan, a few cracks echoing in the room as he moved.

“Damn it’s stuffy in here,” Paul muttered absently, shucking his top off casually and throwing it over at their packs, absolutely oblivious to the fact that Daryl nearly fucking choked.

It should be damn illegal to look so good. He stared at Paul as he moved over to the floor lamp, clicking it off and plunging them into semi darkness, broken only by the bright moonlight coming through the window above the bed.

He hoped the dark covered the way his face felt like it was on fire, Daryl feeling a burning low in his gut as Paul made his way over to the bed, the way he moved with such powerful grace even more obvious now. There were a few candles on plates and in holders on the wooden boxes by the bed, Paul grabbing the matches still lying next to them and crouching easily to light them.

Were backs meant to look so good? Daryl wasn’t sure, but he damn well knew that Paul’s was the nicest; pale and strong, broad shoulders and a trim waist, marked here and there with a few scars and freckles.

God Daryl wished Paul hadn’t lit the candles, it was far to easy to see him now, to trail his eyes across his strong body as he pushed himself up from his crouch. He turned from the candles towards the bed as Daryl tried to remember how to breathe.

Paul paused in front of Daryl, looking down at him with an odd expression before it broke into a small smirk.

“You know,” Paul said, a look in his eyes and a tone in his voice that made Daryl shiver, “this is the third time you’ve blushed like that when I’ve taken my top off.”

Daryl felt like someone had run an electric current through him as he shifted, face burning. “Ain’t exactly gonna be a shock for ya,” he grumbled, “you know what ya look like.”

“Was that a compliment?”

Daryl scoffed. “Nah, don’t do compliments. Just the truth.”

Paul’s fucking smirk faded to overwhelming fondness as he walked over and dropped down to sit on the mattress next to Daryl.

“You make it really hard to flirt with you you know? I’m trying to have some game here!”

“The hell dya need _game_ for? Already got me man.”

Paul just stared at him for a solid few seconds before muttering a rough “for fucks sake” and leaning over, kissing him hard. He went to pull back but Daryl found his hand winding into Paul’s hair, pulling him down again.

It was a blur of hot, heavy kissing after that, Daryl’s brain floating somewhere far above, the rest of him focusing on the addictive feeling of Paul’s lips and tongue and bare chest pressed against him.

It was still fairly dark in the room, only moonlight from the window and the candles highlighting the side of Paul’s face and torso as he pushed himself up onto his hands, the two of them left breathing heavily and staring at each other.

Daryl’s heart was pounding out of his chest, nerves and confusion and pure fucking _want_ coursing through his veins.

“Do you want to stop?” Paul whispered into the silence surrounding them, no edge to his voice, no indication he’d be pissed if Daryl said yes. He could say no, could give into the nerves and fear, the faint echo of his father and brother’s words.

“Nah. Nah I don’t.”

They were separating again, going different ways with no idea what was to come. He didn’t want to regret not getting to see Paul, to touch him, to have something like this. Daryl wanted him more than he could ever remember wanting anything.

Paul smiled and Daryl was damn grateful he was lying down. There was no way Daryl was giving Paul the satisfaction of seeing his knees go weak, he’d never hear the fucking end of it.

Though he couldn’t quite hold back the ragged groan that escaped him when Paul leant down and pressed hot, open mouthed kisses to his neck, sending a bone deep shiver through his body.

His hands found their way to Paul’s torso, stroking over his ribs, his back, the line of neat stitches in his shoulder, anything Daryl could reach but it still wasn’t enough. He felt his face heat up as he very audibly moaned when Paul pulled back just enough to sling his leg over the other side of Daryl’s body, grinding down slightly right on his dick as he straddled him.

Daryl’s hands shot to Paul’s hips, gripping them hard as he just looked at him. He was relived to see he wasn’t the only one breathing heavily, Paul’s well muscled chest rising and falling quickly, a slight sheen of clean sweat glistening in the moonlight. As much as Daryl wanted him, wanted so much more, wanted things he’d never had before, he couldn’t help but take a moment to just _look_ at him, to commit all of it to memory.

He was so perfectly imperfect, so human and here and _his_. Fuck Daryl loved him.

He relished the way Paul’s eyes closed briefly as Daryl dragged his nails from where they were resting high on his hips down across his stomach, watching as his muscles tensed.

Paul laid his hands over Daryl’s, sliding them up his arms, over his shoulders and down his chest.

“Can I?” Paul asked, hands stopping, griping the bottom of his t-shirt. Daryl almost said no, almost panicked, still hating his scars both old and new. But why should he? Why should he care when Paul obviously didn’t, when he too had scars, when he was looking at Daryl and wanting him just the way he was.

He nodded, pushing himself up off the bed, Paul moving back until Daryl was sitting up straight, chest to chest with Paul as the other man stayed seated in his lap. He let Paul pull his shirt off, shivering as he ran his hands over Daryl’s back. The feel of Paul’s bare chest against his own was addictive, as was the breathy noise he made as Daryl wound a hand in his hair and kissed his neck.

Kissing had never felt like this before, neither had touching or being touched. _Nothing_ had felt like this. His head was swimming, heart pounding, a slight perpetual shake in his hands as he touched and touched. It was fear and freedom, apprehension and acceptance all rolled into one, Daryl knowing in his bones that he was safe in Paul’s hands, that whatever happened would be fine because it was them, exactly as they were. Imperfect and messed up and so, so in love.

It was a strange blur after that, the kind of blur where everything was moving so fast, covered in a haze of feelings, yet each second was crystal clear, engraved forever in his mind. There was no grace between them, no fear, no worries other than wanting the other to feel as good as they were.

Daryl would be the first to admit he had no idea what he was doing but, despite what he’d always worried, right in the deep, dark, hidden places of his mind, it turned out that it didn’t matter at all. Hell, Paul ended up just giggling when Daryl got his legs tangled as they kicked their sweatpants off, Daryl gently swatting him over the head before diving back in to kiss and touch and taste, to try and remember to breathe as he got to look at Paul, at all of him; bare and vulnerable and vibrant.

It didn’t take them long to finish at all, the two of them collapsing onto the mattress side by side, breathing heavily. Daryl was sure he’d never felt like that before, staring at the ceiling just trying to bring his brain back online.

“Earth to Daryl? Are you alive in there?”

Daryl smacked the back of his hand onto the flat of Paul’s stomach, cutting of his breathless giggles. “Fuck off, don’t ruin it.”

“Oh I wouldn’t dream of it. Far too proud of myself to do that.”

“Cocky shit,” he grumbled, suppressing a smile. “Think I had a hand in it too.”

“Hell _yeah_ you did.”

Daryl couldn’t help but choke back his own laugh at Paul’s leery tone, turning his head to look at the flushed, grinning man beside him. Fuck he was so beautiful, lazing on his back, totally relaxed and comfortable in his skin. Paul met his gaze, grin softening into something that almost made Daryl want to cry.

“You okay?” Paul asked gently.

“Mhmm, real okay. Ain’t- ain’t never done that before, with a guy. Wanted to. Just couldn’t let myself. Glad it was you.”

Paul leaned over and kissed him gently. “I’m glad too.” The wicked grin slowly creeped back onto his face again. “And that isn’t even the half of it. I’ve got so much more to show you, to do with you, to you...”

If he was a younger man, Daryl was sure he’d be pouncing on Paul already, a low simmering heat starting in his gut at his tone.

“God you’re gonna be the death of me.”

There was far too much of a groan in his words for Daryl’s liking, but it made Paul laugh, the sweet sound encompassing everything good in life for him.

“Well we’ll put a hold on that then. Wouldn’t want you having a heart attack old man...”

“Do you really want to get your ass kicked in your birthday suit?”

“Aww bless, that rush of endorphins is making you delirious. It’s okay, I’ll pretend you didn’t say anything so stupid.”

Daryl blamed the spine tingling orgasm he’d just had on the unrestrained smile that broke out on his face, too happy to try and hold it back. Who’d have thought he’d ever get to be naked and comfortable and himself in bed with someone he loved.

Paul looked at him in surprise for a second before he dramatically rolled his eyes and groaned. “Oh God, you’re sweet and soppy in the afterglow aren’t you? I should have guessed it.”

Daryl shrugged and grinned stupidly at him. “Might be. Might even cuddle.”

“No. Nope, I’m out.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter man, I know damn well you cuddle.”

“I was injured and nearly died, it doesn’t count.”

Daryl scoffed, grabbing Paul’s arm and pulling him into him, huffing out a laugh as Paul immediately wrapped an arm over his stomach and put his head on Daryl’s chest.

He could hear the smile in Paul’s as he promised, “just this once, don’t get used to it.”

Feeling truly content and comfortable in his skin, Daryl just kissed the top of Paul’s head.

“Shut the fuck up asshole.”

 

They spent the next couple of hours wrapped around each other, talking or kissing or just breathing together. It was a brief moment of peace that Daryl never wanted to end. Paul was right though, Daryl thought as he slipped reluctantly out of bed, there always seemed to be something pulling them apart.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” came a quiet voice from the bed, Daryl turning to see Paul prop himself up and look at him. “I wish you could stay or I could go too. Anything to keep us together. Doesn’t feel right to split up now. There’s just nothing else to do.

Daryl finished lacing up his boots before he sat on the edge of the mattress, looking down at Paul’s solemn face.

“Ain’t forever. Just need to not do anythin’ stupid till I come back or you come to Hilltop.”

“Why am I the one who’d do something stupid? I was gonna say the same thing to you.”

“Pretty sure you still got me beat at this point man. If ya don’t go lookin’ for trouble, it sure as hell seems to find you.”

Paul grinned. “Okay, fair. Still, don’t try and catch up yeah? Just keep yourself and Lydia safe.”

Daryl reached out to grab Paul’s hand, squeezing it tight, Paul returning his grip in the heavy silence of the room.

“Love you yeah?” he said quietly, meaning it in every molecule of his body, sure that it was written into his very bones.

“Love you too. Always.”

With one last, lingering kiss, Daryl made himself stand and grab his pack, taking another look at Paul before he left the room, closing it with far too much finality behind him.

Despite all the years that had passed since he last lived in Rick’s house, he still remembered which stairs and which floorboards to avoid, slipping quietly through the stillness to the guest bedroom.

He made his way to her door, knocking as gently as he could, not wanting to frighten her by just coming in in the dark. He heard movement from inside, slowly opening the door.

He looked inside and immediately pulled out his knives.

A figure was stood over her bed, arm reached out, hand clasped over her mouth as she struggled, her muffled noises of distress making Daryl see red.

He lunged at the figure, body automatically grinding to a halt at the last minute as he recognised who it was.

“ _Rick_?”

“Shit,” Rick hissed out, looking between the still struggling Lydia and Daryl, “it’s not what it looks like!”

“Really?” Daryl hissed, pure fury burning through him. Fury and disappointment. “‘Cause it looks damn well like you’re gonna fucking hurt her! Is this about revenge for what happened? You really gonna take that out on a _kid_?!”

“No! No I’m not! Who do ya think I am?”

Daryl paused, looking Rick over. “After everythin’ that’s happened recently, I ain’t sure.”

Rick looked like he’d been slapped, face stuttering as he finally exhale shakily and turned back to Lydia, Daryl’s grip tightening on his knife instinctively.

“Hey,” Rick whispered to Lydia, “I’m gonna move my hand now. But I need ya to not scream okay?”

Slowly, muscles tense like he’d smack his hand over her mouth again if needed, Rick moved back, hands raised as Lydia shot up out of bed, standing with her back to the far wall and looking with wide eyes at Daryl. 

“You okay kid?”

She didn’t speak, just nodded jerkily.

He turned back to Rick, anger still rushing through him. “The fuck were you doin’ then Rick?”

“I was trying to get her somewhere safe,” he said quietly, a hint of desperation in his voice. “I’ve heard what people are saying out there, what too many of them want either out of anger that will pass and leave them with nothin’ but regret, or from an actual desire to hurt her for revenge. No matter what, it ain’t safe for her here.”

Daryl stared at Rick hard for a few seconds, knowing in his gut that his brother was telling the truth. The relief nearly knocked him sideways.

“Fuckin’ hell Rick,” he breathed out as he sheathed his knife, “nearly gave me a damn heart attack.”

“Yeah, could probably have gone about it a better way. Just wanted to get it done fast.”

Daryl just shook his head, turning to Lydia. “‘S okay kid, he wasn’t gonna hurt ya. Promise. Was just bein’ an idiot. Me and Paul already made plans to get ya out of here. Me an’ you, we’re goin’ to Hilltop.”

“I’m sorry,” Rick said gently when Lydia didn’t move from the wall, eyeing him like a trapped animal, “I didn’t mean to scare ya. Just didn’t want ya to wake everyone up. I swear I wouldn’t hurt ya. Swear on- I swear on Carl’s grave.”

Daryl’s heart clenched at Rick’s words and even someone like Lydia, someone who had no idea what had happened or who Carl was, could tell just from Rick’s face and voice what that meant. It was as good a promise as you could ever get in this world.

Slowly she nodded and inched away from the wall, still nervous but willing to trust Rick, to trust Daryl’s word. It made him proud, made him believe that this kid could unlearn the bullshit she’d been brought up to believe, that she could let go of some of the awful instincts a life like that left you with. He’d make sure she did, him and Paul both. If anyone knew what an early intervention could do for a fucked up kid, it was them. They might not have gotten it themselves but they’d be damn sure she did.

Lydia came and stood by his side, Daryl leaning in to talk to her. “You get ready okay? Ya don’t need much, can get ya what ya need at Hilltop. Just get dressed and come down quietly.”

With a brief squeeze of her shoulder, Daryl motioned Rick out of the room first before following, shutting the door quietly behind him. They both crept as silently as they could down the stairs and into the kitchen, Rick slumping against the counter, exhaustion clear in every inch of him.

“You okay?” Daryl asked, never able to extinguish the bone deep _need_ to make sure Rick was safe and alright, no matter how much time passed or what Rick had done. It was too much a part of his DNA by now.

Rick just sighed and shook his head. “No brother, I don’t think I am. What happened today, with Maggie, that ain’t me. Don’t think I was gonna do nothin’ but still, it was like I wasn’t even there. I can’t handle another war Daryl. Not after what the last one cost me.”

He turned and looked at Daryl, eyes haunted. “Why are we never allowed to just keep a good thing? Why do we always gotta fight for it. Fight to find it, fight to win it and fight to fuckin’ keep it. I’m- I’m so tired Daryl.”

Daryl sighed, his heart hurting for his brother. He wasn’t the same after the war, after losing so much. Losing Carl.

“Ain’t on you man. Don’t all have to be your decision or your responsibility. Take a step back if ya need it. We just need to know Alexandria is in this with us, in any way. Don’t need you to fight if ya can’t. Just don’t stop us. Or guilt someone for taking the action they had to.”

He shot Rick a pointed look, a flash of shame crossing his tired face. “Yeah I know. Ain’t like anyone’s gonna miss the prick. Might have overreacted a bit. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah I know. Maggie does too.” 

They stood in silence again, Daryl studying his brother as they waited for Lydia to come down. He really did look exhausted; pale and drawn in a way he never had before, not even after he lost Lori. No parent should ever have to bury their child.

Rick cleared his throat. “Okay. We’ll start getting ready. I’m sorry though Daryl, but I won’t strike first. I know it’s a long shot, but maybe that really was her last strike against us. I’m willing to do anything to keep a real war from breaking out. You-”

He hesitated, face haunted. “You didn’t see what I saw Daryl, at the camp. When she took me away, she showed me... she has a _herd_ Daryl. A real one, one we could never hope to defeat. She said she’d lead them to our doors if we caused her any more trouble and I damn well believe her. It isn’t just the living we’d be fighting, it’d be an army of the dead. We wouldn’t win.”

“Fuck man, that’s bullshit! We can handle the walkers if it came to that, we’d figure something out. She ain’t just gonna leave this Rick. Lydia’s her damn daughter, she knows her. If she thinks Alpha won’t be able to resist testing herself against us, then I believe her. This ain’t just goin’ away if you bury your head in the sand!”

“That ain’t what I’m doing!” Rick hissed out. “Im trying to keep us all safe! To not force us into a fight we can’t win! If you saw what I did, you’d say the same.”

Both of them were breathing heavily, staring each other out. Daryl knew Rick well enough to know there was no changing his mind, not now. Daryl resigned himself to not having the kind of help they all wanted, not unless Rick could be convinced by some fucking miracle. He wondered how Maggie would take it.

“Look,” Rick said after a moment, “I’m not sayin’ I won’t help. We’ll get ready okay? That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. When you get Lydia to Hilltop, I want ya to stay there.”

He looked up at Daryl. “I want you to train people, to lead them. Most people still remember how to fight but they could do with a refresher. It’s the newbies though that need work. And... I want Jesus to stay and train the people here.”

“Hell no,” Daryl spat immediately, stomach turning, “we ain’t splitting’ up again. Bad enough having to take Lydia without him but there ain’t no way we’re livin’ in two different communities! Come on Rick, don’t ask that of me.”

He felt his throat close, swallowing hard around the lump in it. He didn’t care if he sounded like he was begging, he damn well would if he had to.

“Rick, ya know what this is for me,” he muttered, hardly believing he was letting himself say it to Rick, “what _he_ is. Nearly lost him twice. I can’t- I don’t wanna be apart from him man. Don’t feel right.”

“I know brother, I really do. I wouldn’t ask if we didn’t need it but we do. He’s probably the best fighter we’ve got and Alexandria... it’s gotten soft. Hate to admit it but it has. And that’s my fault. I need his help to fix it. It ain’t gonna be for long, ya’ll can travel between communities if you’re careful. I just need both of ya to do this. I’d ask Michonne but she’s a leader and a fighter, not a trainer. I need her and she’s needed by Alexandria in other ways. Its gotta be you, ain’t no two better for the job. Please.”

“Fucks sake Rick,” he growled, anxiety sparking through his nerves. The worst thing was, Daryl knew it was the right call. He didn’t think much of himself as a leader but he knew he could do it, could train Hilltop the way they needed, to make sure they knew what they needed to protect themselves and each other. And he damn well knew Paul was perfect for it, especially if Alexandria needed more work.

“Please Daryl,” Rick muttered as Daryl hesitated, “I can’t do it, not anymore. You’re both perfect for it, exactly what we need. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t desperate. I _need_ you.”

And just like that, his hands were tied.

“Fine,” he practically spat, angry at Rick even as he gave in. “Fine, I’ll do it. Ya still gotta ask Paul but... I know he’ll say yes too. Don’t like it though.”

Rick breathed a sigh of relief, face and posture relaxing just a touch. “Thank you Daryl. Can’t tell ya what a relief that is. I’m sorry to have to ask, I am. I do know what this means for ya. I know you lo-“

“-fucking shut up man, I’ve agreed. Don’t need to say nothin’ else.”

Rick looked regretful for a moment but Daryl knew it’d be a cold day in hell before he’d ever go back on a decision. He loved his brother, he really did, but sometimes he couldn’t stand Rick fucking Grimes.

Movement out of the corner of his eyes made him turn. Quiet as a mouse, sparking a small, irrational measure of pride in Daryl, Lydia creeped into the kitchen. She looked at Rick warily still, probably would for a while yet, before moving to Daryl’s side.

“Ready to go kid?”

She nodded, Daryl casting his eyes over her and seeing she didn’t have any weapons.

“You ain’t got a knife huh? Or a gun or somethin’?”

She shook her head. “Only had a knife, back in the camp. My m- Alpha, gave it to me. Lost it when Jesus captured me.”

Daryl looked up at Rick. “Got any spare weapons for her?”

An odd look passed over his face. “Yeah. Yeah kind of. Just a second.”

He vanished into the house, his light footsteps on the stairs, a door opening and closing before he came back down again, walking slowly into the kitchen with something clutched in his hands.

Rick stopped in front of Lydia and slowly held out a very familiar gun.

“Ain’t got any spares in the house, everythin’ is kept in the armoury and you don’t have time to stop there. Plus, it’s under heavy guard right now. This- this is all I’ve got to give ya.”

Daryl’s heart clenched. “Rick man no, you- you don’t gotta give her that. I’ll find her somethin’.”

Rick just shook his head, a sad smile twisting his face as he looked at Daryl. “Nah, I think he’d have wanted her to have it. Tough as nails kid that won’t take shit? Yeah, seems like his kind of thing.”

Looking down a Lydia, his face softened. “This was my son’s gun. His name was Carl. I think- I think you both might have been friends. He died a few years ago, during our last war. I’m not the leader I used to be, but I do still see the danger at our door. So you take this and keep yourself safe okay?”

She hesitated for a second before reaching out and taking the gun and holster, slowly strapping it to her as Rick looked on, pain clear in his eyes.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, “and I’m sorry about your son.”

“Me too.”

Daryl gently nudged Lydia to the side, squeezing her shoulder as he moved to pull Rick into a hug.

“Thanks Rick,” he said into his shoulder. “You stay safe yeah? Things- things are gonna get messy, don’t do nothin’ stupid. Listen to ‘Chonne and Paul too, they should water down any of your dumbass ideas.”

“Fuck you Daryl. Back at you though. Can’t lose you too.”

They pulled apart after a few more seconds, Daryl stepping back to join Lydia, turning away from Rick’s eyes.

“Come on kid, got a lot of ground to cover.”

Without a backwards glance at his brother, Daryl led Lydia out of the backdoor. They’d have to take an old, little known way out of Alexandria, down through the old sewers before they could start their journey.

He couldn’t help but wonder if there was someone looking through the attic window, gazing out into the dark of the night in the hopes of seeing two faint figures moving through the night. Whether Paul really was looking or not, the thought of his eyes on Daryl’s back gave him the strength to move.

 

———

 

Morning came both far too soon and not soon enough, Paul heaving himself off of the mattress on the floor with a heavy sigh.

God he missed Daryl already. It was ridiculous, something he was completely and utterly unused to, never having had anyone he’d missed the second they were out of his sight. He just wanted to _see_ him, to talk to him and touch him, to not be stuck in a different community when shit was hitting the fan on a universal scale.

Paul wished they could have just stayed here, in the tiny attic room, on the flat mattress on the floor and never have to move.

His heartbeat sped up, his stomach swooping as he thought back to last night, to finally getting to touch Daryl and make him fall apart like he’d been aching to do for so long. Even the memory made him shiver, having done nothing but simply touch each other and yet it was still the best sexual experience he’d ever had. Guess there really was truth in the whole ‘it’s better with someone you love’ shit.

Paul forced himself to stop thinking of it before the memory of Daryl’s noises made him totally useless, grabbing his clothes and heading down for a shower. It was still fairly early in the morning and he hoped to fuck he didn’t run into anybody, very aware of the beard burn and marks dotted around his bare torso and neck.

Despite wanting to disappear under the properly hot water until the day was over, Paul was washed and dressed in no time at all, making his way down to the kitchen to find Rick. They had a hell of a day coming up and he wanted to help manage it any way he could. He also hoped to ensure that Rick would decide to help them.

He could hear noise in the kitchen, Judith chattering away to Michonne as she moved around putting some breakfast together. He rounded the corner and felt warm at the sight of such a domestic family scene, even in the middle of a constantly changing, dangerous world. Rick sat at the kitchen table with a mug of something hot, watching fondly as Michonne scrambled some eggs with Judith sat on the counter next to her.

Paul almost didn’t want to interrupt but the day needed to get started, too many things and worries in front of him. He cleared his throat and greeted them as they turned to him, Paul almost positive that he saw Rick give him a once over and a faint glare. He hoped to fuck he was imagining it but felt himself shuffle none the less, grateful when Michonne told him to come get some food.

He helped her and Judith set plates of scrambled eggs out on the table and some of Alexandria’s home made bread. It wasn’t as nice as Hilltop’s, but then again he might be a little biased. Despite the occasional lingering glare from Rick, it actually ended up being a pleasant breakfast; Paul chatting with Michonne as easy as always and listening intently as Judith talked his ear off. He understood why Daryl had always been so taken by her.

Part of him felt like they shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be just sat there eating breakfast and talking like it was a normal day, like the day before was a normal day and the day before that. It almost felt unfair. Then again, as Paul really took the time to watch both Michonne and Rick, he saw the darkness and worry in their eyes, knowing that they needed this little slice of normality and peace with each other and their daughter. 

“Come on Judith,” Michonne gently interrupted as the little girl continued to talk to a very much charmed Paul, “you need to get ready for school.”

Judith immediately brightened even more, turning to her mom with an eager look on her face. “Can Jesus take me? Please? I told everyone I know him!”

Michonne shook her head bemused, turning to a confused Paul. “The kids think you’re cool,” she said simply. A sudden bark of a laugh left him, amused and flattered in equal measure. He turned back to Judith, her eyes wide and looking like every puppy dog in the world put into one.

“Well I don’t know about being cool, but I’ll walk you.”

“Yes! Thanks Jesus!”

They all watched the girl jump of her seat and run up to her room to get ready for the day, leaving silence in her wake.

Paul turned back to Michonne with a grin. “Cool huh?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

Paul was still grinning as he got up to help Michonne tidy up, relishing the dry looks she kept giving him. He always enjoyed being with Michonne and though he wouldn’t admit it to her, much happier to hold the ‘cool’ thing over her head a little longer, Paul thought she was incredible.

After clearing up, Paul found himself cornered by Rick, any ease he’d found during breakfast having vanished.

“Could I talk to you for a second?”

Paul nodded and followed Rick into the living room

“I spoke with Daryl last night,” he began, getting right to it which Paul was appreciative of.

“Thought so. Took him longer than it should have to leave the house.”

“He err, he caught me in Lydia’s room. I was tryin’ to get her out of here, same reasons as you two, but it didn’t go so well. Anyway, we got talkin’ once that was cleared up. I asked him to stay at Hilltop, even after he’d made sure Lydia was safe.”

Paul’s heart skipped a fucking beat. “I beg your pardon?” he said, deceptively calm.

“I need him to train the people there, to get them ready for this damn war ya’ll seem so sure we’re headin’ to. Took some convincing but in the end, he agreed. I know it was a tough ask and I’m about to make one more. I need you to stay here, to train my people. There’s not too many left who can fight, properly fight I mean. We were all so damn eager to give all that up after the war and we’ve got further to go than Hilltop. We need you for that.”

“Fucking hell Rick,” he groaned, stomach twisting as he ran a hand roughly through his hair in agitation. “Do you have any idea what kind of an ask that is? After everything that’s happened?”

Rick nodded. “Yeah, I do, but I’m askin’ anyway. I’m askin’ because we need you here and we need him there, and as much as you both might hate it, I know you both agree.”

And wasn’t that just the god damn kicker; Paul did agree, he knew logically and tactically it was the right call. He wouldn’t go so far as to call Alexandria weak, but it was out of practice and as much as he hated leading of any kind, he knew he could get them all ready much quicker and easier than anyone else. He also knew Daryl was perfect at Hilltop, the people there having taken to him quickly, already trusting him and looking up to him. Daryl could have them all ready in no time at all.

Yeah, it was the right thing to do, to put the communities first. He just didn’t want to do it.

Paul sighed heavily, a burning weight in his gut as he reluctantly nodded. “Fine, I’ll do it. But I’m warning you now Rick, I can leave when I want, whether for a short time or permanently. You know me, I won’t leave without reason and I certainly won’t leave when people need help, but I refuse to be trapped here. I’m sure Daryl feels the same.”

“Yeah, he does. And that’s fine, don’t want to trap either of ya. I just need to make sure someone can do what I can’t anymore.”

Paul looked closely at Rick, studying his face. It wasn’t often that Rick Grimes admitted that there was something he couldn’t do. He wasn’t sure if that was a particularly welcome change right now.

“Where are you at Rick?” Paul asked slowly, concerned for the man despite their differences at times. “What’s going on with you?”

Rick just sighed and shook his head. “Just too tired Jesus. Too tired to do all this again, all the planning and build up, the ordering people out to die, watching them say goodbye to their loved ones and just never coming home. I can’t lose anyone else, not again. Especially when I’ve had a hand in their deaths.”

“Rick,” he began gently, “nothing that happened was your fault. I’ve not always agreed with your decisions, we both know that, but you’re a good leader and a good man. And you have always been, without question, an _exceptional_ father.”

Rick’s face crumpled a touch and for one horrifying second, Paul was certain he was about to cry. Instead he just cleared his throat roughly.

“Well, that’s all beside the point. I still need to think exactly what our next step is gonna be, but in the meantime, training is what we need. I’m sorry to ask, but you both are the best for the job. Carol can handle things at the Kingdom.”

Paul nodded, tempted to prompt Rick for more information on what he’d be telling everybody at the meeting. He still sounded far too undecided for Paul’s peace of mind, like he was still hoping he could avoid further trouble with the Whisperers by making them keep their heads down.

“Come on Jesus!”

With a small smile and a shake of the head at his daughter’s shouting, Rick seemed to brighten a bit, nodding for Paul to head off.

“Go on, best get her to school. She wants to show ya off. I’ll see ya at the meetin’.”

Paul rolled his eyes at the idea of any of the kids actually being impressed by him but nodded all the same, shouting his goodbyes to Michonne as Judith came barrelling at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the front door.

Alexandria was quieter than he’d seen it in a long time, the streets usually busy at this time of the morning. As it was, only those who absolutely needed to be outside were moving around, sluggish and drawn, the recent tragedy weighing on them all on top of the looming threat.

Still, it didn’t seem to dissuade Judith from chatting away to him as they walked towards the large garage of one of the houses that had been repurposed as a classroom for the children. Despite the worry in his gut, Paul couldn’t help utterly taken with the little girl, especially when she ran ahead a little to let the other children know she’d brought ‘Ninja Jesus’ with her.

As he reached the garage of excited kids, it didn’t take him long to be swamped by them, many overlapping requests to show them some ‘ninja stuff’.

“I can’t today,” he said with a smile, “but I will when I have more time. I might even do some classes one day, then you can all be ninjas.”

The six kids seemed very pleased with that, Paul finally managing to escape their eager clutches with the arrival of their teacher, all of them chorusing an adorable goodbye to him. Mood improved somewhat, resolving to speak to Rick about putting on some easy classes for them at some point, Paul headed to the guest house where Maggie and Ezekiel were staying.

He knocked and waited, smiling at Ezekiel as the king opened the door and ushered him inside. Paul couldn’t help but still feel like he didn’t deserve the way his old friend was treating him, not after what he’d done. He resolved to talk to Ezekiel about it later, to explain himself and apologise properly.

As he was lead into the house, he found Maggie sat at the island in the middle of the kitchen, face pale and drawn, eyes far away as she thought. She managed a small smile as he came in and kissed the top of her head, moving past her and taking a seat, Ezekiel doing the same.

“How are you?” Paul asked her after a moment.

She shrugged. “Worried if I’m honest. I still can’t figure out what Rick’s gonna decide. The Hilltop will prepare for a fight no matter what, I refuse to get caught unready, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s Rick Grimes. People care about what he has to say, what he decides. We all might be leaders of our own communities, but he’s _Rick_.”

Paul nodded, understanding exactly where she was coming from, those same thoughts and worries in his own mind, unnerved that he still couldn’t read exactly where Rick was standing in this.

“And... after Negan...” she trailed off and shook her head. “I moved on and accepted it, I trusted him. But if he decides to abandon us in this, to leave us to prepare for this alone? I think that might just be one bad decision too far.”

Paul didn’t know what to say to that, not sure if there even was anything he could say to that. He understood where she came from and what a betrayal it would be for her, half of Paul also worrying for Daryl if he found out his brother had decided to all but leave them to fight this new threat alone whilst Alexandria stuck their heads in the sand and hoped for the best.

“I suppose,” Ezekiel began slowly, “we just have to wait and hope he will see sense and join us. I would not like to see him make the same mistake that I did, one that still sits heavily with me. We’ve made our appeal and now, it’s up to him. Regardless, the Hilltop and the Kingdom combined are a force to be reckoned with. As long as we are together, I have hope.”

Paul couldn’t help but smile at Ezekiel, filled with a rush of fondness for the man, and gratitude that they had him. It would be a colder world without his own particular brand of reckless, hopeful positivity.

Maggie patted Ezekiel’s hand. “You’re right. I best get ready then.”

She stood and left, Paul watching her back as she made her way out of the room, always marvelling at the strength she had to hold everything up, to keep going, to constantly move forward and strive to make their little corner of the world safer and better. He’d readily admit he was always a little in awe of Maggie Rhee.

Silence fell over the room, a slight undercurrent of tension now that Maggie had left the room. Paul cast a sideways glance at his friend, the guilt he’d been feeling since he first realised he’d been responsible for Carol and Dante getting captured bubbling up once again.

“Look,” Paul exhaled just as Ezekiel also began to speak, both of them stopping and smiling somewhat awkwardly, Paul continuing at Ezekiel’s nod.

“I’m so sorry about Carol, for forgetting she was still out there and should have been at Hilltop by then. There’s no excuse for it. God Daryl was so pissed at me, was ready to charge off and find her. I’m so sorry Ezekiel. It was all my fault she got caught by the Whisperers, Dante too.”

“It wasn’t your fault Jesus,” Ezekiel said gently, dropping his ‘king’ voice, looking at Paul with a soft smile. “You’d had your own close call and I don’t blame you for being distracted. Am I angry she got taken and held hostage yet again? Yes, yes I am. I want to burn them all for that alone, but I’m angry at _them_ , not you. You’ve done so much for the Kingdom, and for me. You always have, right since you first snuck in and gave me a heart attack.”

Paul smiled at the memory, having not expected the leader of the new community he’d just found to be sleeping on a bench in the gardens in the middle of the night. It was a fond memory for them both.

“Honestly Jesus, I’m just glad she’s okay and that you’re okay. Daryl too. Carol was so worried for him after we received the news. I’m glad you’re still here and that he is, and not just because I would miss you immensely. No, I have a feeling we’re going to need everyone for this fight. It’s coming, no matter what that Alpha might have said or Rick might hope. I can feel it in my bones. So please, let go of your guilt and focus on what you can do and not what you feel like you didn’t.”

Paul nodded with a smile, finding himself surprisingly choked. “Thank you Ezekiel, you’re a forgiving man.”

“It’s not hard to forgive you anything Jesus. You’re a good man. We need as many of them in this world as we can get.”

Paul felt a warm rush of fondness for his old friend. “Well it’s a good thing we’ve got you then isn’t it.”

Ezekiel squeezed his shoulder with a wide smile, a fake cough making them look up to see Maggie stood looking at them both.

“I almost can’t bare to break this love fest up, but we need to get goin’. The meetin’s startin’ soon.”

Paul rolled his eyes, patting Ezekiel on the back as they both stood and joined Maggie, the three of them heading out of the guest house and following the trails of people heading into the main hall.

Hardly anybody paid much attention to them as they made their way in with the crowd; everyone was too caught up in their own thoughts and feelings and worries, their attention on the long table at the front of the room, Rick sat in the centre chair like a statue, Michonne looking tense next to him.

Maggie led Paul and Ezekiel up to the stage at the front, Paul splitting off to take up his usual position in the back corner, able to easily view the whole crowd but out of the way enough that he was rarely even noticed. Maggie and Ezekiel moved to the table but instead of taking their seats beside Rick, they stayed stood together behind it.

He wasn’t sure if many would consciously pick up on it, but to Paul it was a clear but subtle declaration of where they both stood. Maggie Rhee and King Ezekiel, the Hilltop and the Kingdom, were already in this together. Whatever came next was Rick’s decision and his alone, the other two leaders having already decided and cast their lots together.

The hall filled rapidly after that, a mix of rage and hollow grief on every face as the stream of people finally stopped, everyone standing about impatiently, waiting for Rick to stand. Once the crowd finally settled, he did, moving around the table to the front of the stage.

“So, I know you’re all eager to hear the plan, to know what we’ll be doin’ with the Whisperers. But before we do, I just want to take a minute. I want all of you to think about this community, to remember what it was like after the war, what a disaster zone it was. Buildings burnt to nothing, those still standing covered in bullet holes and smoke. Walker bodies ruining the very ground we stand on.”

He looked out over them all, Paul unable to see his face but watching those of the crowds even more intently, a nervous feeling in his gut.

“More than anything, I want ya to remember the bodies we put in the ground, the bodies of people we loved. We lost so much to the Saviours, to our own stubborn overconfidence. Yes we won, but at much too steep a price.”

The crowd shifted, some reflective and some growing angrier. Paul knew what Rick was trying to do, just as he knew it would have the opposite affect of what we wanted. Especially if he was to follow with what Paul feared he was.

Rick let the uneasy silence hang for a little longer.

“With that in mind, I can’t allow any kind of full scale retaliation against the Whisperers.”

The room erupted.

“I know,” Rick said over the chaos, “I know that’s not what you want to hear, I know you want revenge. But I also know that revenge for those that we’ve lost will only lead to us losing even more. It always does. However, I ain’t saying that we’re gonna do nothing. I’m going to work with the other communities and arrange more patrols to keep our borders clear and warn us if anything comes our way.

“We’ll train, we’ll get ready to protect ourselves and our community should any further attacks happen. Then at some point in the future, when things have calmed down and Alpha won’t be expecting it, we’ll send a small scouting group out to check their numbers, defences and weapons. We can decide what to do then.”

Paul watched with folded arms as the hall reacted. They were angry, disappointed, even betrayed. Paul couldn’t say that he blamed them, he was feeling much the same himself. He knew Rick didn’t want to attack the Whisperers, hardly wanted to fight at all in fact, but he’d hoped with the way he was talking about Daryl and himself training the people, that he was willing to do more than he’d just said.

And he damn well bet Daryl had thought the same too.

“This is bullshit!” someone shouted from the crowd, more agreements and curses following.

“You can’t expect us to do _nothing_! To just sit here and wait for more trouble! They killed our people!”

The voices all crossed over each other, but Paul’s eyes landed on Josh’s father. Vincent, he thought his name was, though it’d been a long time since they’d talked. The man looked haunted and broken down in a way that nothing but the death of a child could cause.

He moved out of the crowd to stand before Rick, the two fathers staring each other out as the hall quietened slightly behind them.

“How could you?” Vincent asked hollowly. “How could you ask us, ask _me_ , to just let it go. They killed my- the killed my _son_! You know how that feels Rick. Now I do too. He was my whole damn world and now his head is in some empty field miles from me and his body is god knows where!”

The broken shout sent shivers down Paul’s spine, the depth and breadth of Vincent’s pain too much for even him to comprehend, even with all the loss and pain Paul suffered in his life. This was something else entirely.

Rick shifted under the weight of Vincent’s stare, under the weight of his judgment and pain and anger. Paul was surprised he was still standing.

“Yeah, I do know how you feel,” Rick said finally. “All too well. It’s a loss you can’t even put into words. _That’s_ why I won’t start a war. How many other parents do you want to feel this loss? Because that’s what will happen, we’ll lose more children. Is that what you want?”

Vincent just held his gaze before shaking his head and turning away. “Fuck you Rick Grimes,” he said darkly, disappearing back into the crowd that erupted in discontent yet again.

“Okay, everyone just calm down” Rick said, raising his arms and attempting to get control of the situation. Paul however, met Maggie’s eyes and saw them simmering with anger. He felt his muscles tense as the crowd grew angrier at his words, knowing that something was soon to erupt.

“ _Calm_?!” came a shout from the crowd, Louie standing swaying with a glass of his gut-rot alcohol in hand. “How the fuck can you expect us to be calm! We need to do somethin’!”

“We are doing something! We’re-“

“-you’re doing fuck all,” Louie interrupted, throwing his glass at Rick’s head.

The man ducked just in time but as the glass smashed against the wall behind him, Paul saw all restraint in the crowd break with it. Rick tried to shout over the chaos, tried to get the raging crowd to calm down but all it was doing was making it worse.

Paul wasn’t sure who threw the first punch or why it was thrown, but it signalled the start of the crowd fighting each other, hitting and shoving, their raging anger and grief spilling over into the uncontrollable urge to make someone hurt as much as they were hurting. Even if it was just each other and not those responsible.

Paul moved forward and jumped off the stage into the crowd, pulling people apart and trying to prevent everyone from seriously hurting each other in their desperate anger, catching a glimpse of Michonne doing the same. He rolled with a punch aimed at his face, grabbing the man’s hand in his fist and twisting his arm around his back, kicking his legs out from under him and knocking him to the floor.

“Stop,” he ordered the struggling man, holding him firmly but gently, “I know, I really do. But you need to stop.”

The man relaxed slightly, Paul letting him up and watching as he shoved his way out of the crowd before swiftly moving on.

Someone shoved hard at his injured shoulder, a brief flash of pain shooting through it, reminding him that it was still there, even as everything else seemed to make him forget. He blocked the next punch yet again and shoved the person, someone he recognised vaguely, into the corner of the hall.

“Get off!”

Paul’s heart lurched as he recognised Maggie’s voice, turning to see a woman grab her hair and shove her at a man who pushed her to the ground.

He dived towards Maggie with a shout of her name, pushing people without care, tackling the guy who Paul was damn sure was about to kick her. He didn’t mean to knock the guy unconscious, but he also wasn’t so sure he pulled the punch that he landed on the fuckers face.

Leaving the guy, Paul returned to Maggie’s side, bending down next to her and taking a kick to the back as he curled over her head, the stampeding, raging crowd too close around them. He turned and swept the legs out from under the two closest people, taking advantage of the gap to help Maggie to her feet.

“Are you okay?” he asked desperately, his hands on either side of her face as he looked into her dazed eyes. “Did you bang your head?”

“A little, it’s nothin’.”

“Like hell it’s noth-“

His words were cut off by the loud crack of two gunshots, everyone jumping and turning to see Rick aiming his gun at the roof, two new holes in the wood.

“Everybody needs to calm down and get the fuck out of here. Now. This meeting is over. Anyone carries on fighting and the next shot goes in your leg.”

There was a darkness to his tone that had everyone knowing he damn well would, the crowd finally beginning to disperse, some quickly as though they were ashamed of what they’d done, and some slowly, like they were just itching to get back to it.

With a glance back at Rick, Michonne moving out of the crowd to stand at his side, Paul resolved himself to finding and talking with him later. Maybe he could change his mind, could get him to understand that this wasn’t an _if_ situation, it was a _when_. Whether sooner or later, they would have to face the Whisperers again.

For now though, Maggie had a bruise already beginning to form on her temple and a dizzy look in her eyes regardless of her words. She was the priority right now.

“Come on,” he said gently, leading her to the exit, refusing to let her stop as they passed Rick, even when she struggled. He’d get her settled and then find Rick and when he did, the man damn well better listen to him.

 

Three hours or so later, as Paul left the guest house he’d got Maggie settled into, he made his way to the Grimes house. It was slowly getting darker, dusk falling over the community, but he could easily watch as Rick left his house and moved down the street, a strange look on his face.

Paul knew by now to trust his gut, it’d saved him and lead him in so many situations both before and after the Turn, and right now it was telling him to follow Rick and to not be seen.

It was embarrassingly easy, Rick not noticing a thing as he moved down the street and stopped in front of the last house.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Paul watched Rick descend into Negan’s prison.

He was about to move closer, to linger by the window in the hopes of overhearing what was being said, concerned on some instinctual level, when he saw a figure staggering down the street.

They swayed, obviously drunk as they made their way closer. After everything that had happened, he couldn’t say that he blamed their decision to dive down any bottle they could find. He would have left well enough alone if he wasn’t hit with recognition just as they tripped and landed hard, only one arm extended to stop their fall.

Rushing forward, Paul moved to Rosita’s side.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked gently, waiting for her to acknowledge him before reaching out to help her to her feet.

“The fuck do you think,” she spat, jerking away from him once she was stood again, taking a long swig from the bottle clutched in her hand.

“I think you should come sit down and stop drinking for a minute okay? This isn’t going to help anything.”

Her eyes shot to his, rage overtaking her face as she reached out and shoved him hard.

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do! I know it won’t help, nothing will, but it’s what I fuckin’ want to do right now. It’s all I’ve got!”

Paul felt torn. He understood that grief sometimes made you do stupid, self destructive things and that sometimes you just needed to give in to that, but he also didn’t feel right letting her continue, not now. There were too many risks for anyone to be blackout drunk with so much danger and unknown looming over them.

“Look,” he began, reaching out a hand to gently grasp her elbow, easing her swaying, “I get it, I do. But he wouldn’t want this for you.”

“Fuck you!” Rosita exploded, dropping the bottle to the floor with a loud clatter as she smacked and punched at his arms and chest. “You don’t know what he’d want for me! And neither do I! Coz he’s fucking dead! They’re all dead! You came back, why couldn’t they?! Why did _you_ get to live?!”

Paul let her rant, let her hit and shove him, knowing she just needed to burn it out. He knew this kind of grief, this kind of anger, very well. If it wasn’t for finding martial arts, he’d probably have carried on down a road of bar and street fights until he was in even deeper shit than he already had been. He knew the best thing he could do for her was to just stand there, to let her beat at him and shout at him until eventually, she’d just crumple.

Sure enough, her hits grew weaker, tears beginning to fall down her face. Paul saw her legs give and reached out to hold her up, leading her over to a bench and sitting her down. She slumped, head down, shoulder shaking in silent, gasping sobs.

Paul slowly sat next to her, putting an arm around her as she collapsed into his side, just holding her as she cried.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered after a few moments of silent crying, her voice hoarse and cracked, “for hitting you and- and what I said. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I know,” he reassured, “it’s okay. I don’t know why I got a second chance, why things worked out for me to live. I don’t know why they died. I wish I could figure it out, could organise it in my head and explain it all but the truth is, there is no explaining these things. They’re just awful and they just happen.”

He took her hand, squeezing it once, meeting her red rimmed eyes as she looked up at him. “And Rosita, you could not have done than you did. None of this is your fault.”

Her face crumpled as she held onto her composure with all she had, exhaling harshly and nodding. “I just- I just wish we could have saved them.”

“Me too. I always do.”

Silence passed for a moment before her chest hitched again. “The last thing I ever said to him was- was that he was an idiot,” she said, voice breaking.

“I didn’t mean it, I was just worried. Scared. He’d left Negan’s prison open by accident. He could have escaped, could have gone on some sort of fucking revenge rampage! But he didn’t, he just sat there. Think it was some mindgame with Rick if I’m honest.”

Yeah, Paul thought the same, his gut clenching once again as he remembered Rick was still down with Negan. He itched to go and eavesdrop, to get some kind of idea what was being said, but he was needed here more. He had time for the rest and he would damn well get to the bottom of it.

“He felt guilty,” she continued with a growl, grief and guilt driven anger on her face, “like it was his fault. I know Rick went hard on him too. I should never have said anything. Now I have to live knowing it was the last conversation we ever had! What if he died feeling guilty? Feeling like- like a failure? What if he... what if he really thought I meant what I said?! I can’t- I don’t- he-”

“- hey,” Paul interrupted swiftly, sensing another possible breakdown, “it doesn’t matter. Okay? Trust me on that. Gabriel knew you loved him and when the end comes, that’s what you think of. He knew you, he knew you were just worried. He knew okay? Don’t torture yourself with that on top of grief.”

“He was everything to me,” she croaked, “my only family. I lost everyone else so early on. I don’t even- I wasn’t there when my brother and father died, I was off with a fucking boyfriend. We were meant to meet up, we planned it just before the phones went down. I waited nearly two weeks, hardly any food with me. I saw some other survivors and we got talking. Turns out they firebombed our hometown. I don’t know for sure, I never will, but I know they died then. So I left with that group and didn’t stop running until I- I met Abe.”

Paul squeezed her hand again, not knowing what to say.

She cleared her throat roughly, blinking away tears again. “After everything happened, I had no one. It was my own fault, I was a bitch and pushed everyone away. Only Gabriel wouldn’t stand for that. He always chased me and we just... clicked. He was my family Jesus. And I lost it again.”

He pulled her into his side again. “I’m so sorry Rosita, I really am. You aren’t alone though, you’re never alone. You’ve got everyone here, everyone in Hilltop. Me and Daryl and Maggie. _Tara_...”

She let out a wet laugh at his teasing tone, punching him gently on the thigh. “Don’t you start with that. You have no idea how painful the ‘will they, won’t they’ thing was with you and Daryl. Pretty sure it was the main topic of gossip for a whole year.”

“Kill me now,” he groaned dramatically to make her smile, even as a very genuine part of him cringed at the thought of them being any sort of gossip.

She huffed out a laugh, comfortable silence falling between them again until she shifted a little.

“Did- did you have any family? Before this?”

Paul stiffened slightly. “No, I didn’t. I grew up in group homes and the odd stint in fostering.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, must have been rough growing up.”

She had no idea.

“It was what it was,” he answered instead, having only ever gone into any kind of detail with Daryl.

“I’m not sure if that’s better or worse. You didn’t have anything to lose when this all began at least. But I’m not sure I’d have given up my family, even to save myself the pain of losing them.”

Paul understood where she was coming from, having often mused over the thought himself.

“I never could figure that out either,” he admitted. “I stopped trying after a while. I can’t change what happened and I wouldn’t want to, it gave me the skills I needed for all this. But one thing I do know, I have a hell of a lot to lose now and I refuse to. I’ll be six feet under before I do.”

She looked up at him, eyes searching his before she nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”

They sat in silence and watched the last light of the sun disappear, plunging Alexandria into darkness. The moon and stars were bright, casting just enough light to see by, illuminating the world in highlights of silver. With Rosita still pressed up tight and warm against his side, Paul allowed himself a moment to just breathe, to not worry about what was to come, to take in everything second by second and enjoy the momentary peace.

He’d just barely begun to relax when faint shouts started breaking out, both Paul and Rosita jolting upright and looking at each other before bolting towards the disturbance.

Paul was faster, heading towards the deserted part of Alexandria, where the houses were too burnt out to bother fixing and they’d never gotten around to tearing down.

He rounded the corner in time to see a man sprinting in their direction, away from the two people fighting on the ground a little way behind him.

Instinct had Paul twisting on one foot, sticking the other straight out in a high kick, the guy unable to stop before his head collided with Paul’s foot. He fell to the ground instantly, lying crumpled and unmoving.

Paul didn’t have time to check if he was okay before he was running towards the two still fighting, the dim light enough to show two men, one on top of the other, punching him over and over again.

“...should still be in charge,” Paul heard as he moved closer, “Negan would never let this go! He’d fucking fight! He’d-“

The rage filled tirade was ended as the figure on the bottom managed to smack the other guy around the head, sending it twisting to the side. Paul saw the guy realise he was running for him before he staggered to his feet and ran in the opposite direction.

Paul wanted to follow but halted sharply, stomach twisting and heart pounding as he saw the prone and bloody form of Rick Grimes on the ground.

“Rick!”

He bent down and gently tapped Rick’s face, the man blearily opening his eyes. He looked beat to fuck; lips split and bleeding, a chipped tooth, a truly epic black eye already beginning to form and blood pouring from his crooked, definitely broken nose. From the slurred way Rick was attempting to speak and the look of his pupils, Paul was positive he had some kind of concussion too. And those were only the visible injuries.

“Rick,” he said as calmly as he could, “stay still for me okay? Rosita will be here in a second, she can go for help. Try not to move okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

Rosita rounded the corner a second or two later, still slightly wobbly but adrenaline having sobered her up somewhat as she skidded to a stop next to them, gasping at the sight of a beaten and bloodied Rick.

“Go to the guest house,” Paul told her steadily, still making sure Rick stopped struggling and stayed still, “get Maggie and Ezekiel. I’m not sure what this is about but it was an attack on a leader. They need to watch out. Get the doctor and bring them all here. Whatever you do, do _not_ cause a panic. That’s the last thing we need right now.”

Rosita nodded before running off again, Paul turning back to a groggy, half conscious Rick.

“It’s okay,” he assured him, gently squeezing his shoulder, “you’re fine now. The doctor’s coming and he’ll check you over. We’ll figure out what happened here and they will be punished.”

“Are... are they... gone?”

Paul internally winced at the wheezing, slurred way Rick was speaking. “One escaped, the guy who was, well, the one who was just beating the shit out of you.”

“Fuck... you.”

Paul grinned a little, gently squeezing Rick’s shoulder. “I knocked the other out. I’ll question him when he comes round. We’ll get to the bottom of this Rick and I’ll send someone out to track that other piece of shit.”

Rick spat out a mouthful of blood, obviously fighting to stay conscious as he forced one eye open, the other already swelled up too much.

“Was Jackson,” he forced out, “the one... who ran. Jackson.”

Jackson, Erin’s boyfriend. Fuck.

He was an ex Saviour who’d surrendered to Jesus and his team on Alden’s suggestion, way back at the Satellite station. He was one of the few that Paul had kept an eye on for a long time, knowing that the man surrendered very reluctantly. It’d taken him a long time to adjust and settle in, but once he’d met Erin, he seemed to fully throw his lot in with Alexandria and the joint communities. But with Erin gone...

“Shit. Okay, we’ll find him later. You’re more important right now, so just stay still, help will be here soon.”

Rick was barely conscious, but managed to nod just a little, still fighting to stay awake. No matter how hard he tried not to, Paul was sure he’d be blacked out sooner rather than later. He just hoped the doctor reported nothing serious once he’d checked him out, not liking how many hits to the head Rick had taken on top of whatever the hell else had been done to him.

A few moments later, Rosita ran around the corner, Maggie and Ezekiel close on her heels with Alexandria’s doctor, a man called James who’d been found a few months after the end of the war.

“Oh shit,” Maggie gasped as she saw Rick. “That looks bad.”

“And what cowardly foe struck our leader down like this, ambushed in the dark?!”

Paul moved back to allow James to take over, standing with Maggie, Zeke and Rosita.

“There was two of them. One ran just before I got to him and the other is over there. I knocked him out cold but I’m sure he’s fine. We’ll need to question him as soon as possible. The one who ran is apparently Jackson, Erin’s boyfriend. I overheard him talking about Negan, saying he wished it was him still in charge right now.”

Paul could see Maggie’s face go hard, even in the low light, Ezekiel swearing creatively in response.

The doctor stood from his crouch at Rick’s side. “We need to get him to the infirmary, he has a concussion and bruised ribs, amongst other things. No facial fractures other than his nose though, which is damn lucky. He needs to rest and for me to make sure there’s no internal bleeding. They kicked him very hard.”

“You two get Rick, I’ll carry him,” Paul said, pointing to the unconscious man on the ground. 

With a nod at Ezekiel, he and the doctor gently lifted Rick, carrying him between them.

Paul moved over to the slumped form on the ground, gently turning him over and checking his pulse. He’d have a hell of a headache when he woke up, but Paul was sure he’d be okay. Bruised, but okay.

He also recognised the man. Vincent, Josh’s father.

With a sigh, Paul carefully grabbed the mans arm and pulled him over his shoulder, carrying him in a fireman’s lift. Vincent was taller than Paul, bigger too, but it only took a brief bit of shuffling to get him situated firmly on his shoulders, turning to join the rest of the group as they moved through the dark.

They managed to get everyone inside the house they used as their infirmary without anyone seeing, Ezekiel and James settling Rick on the bed.

“I’ll need everyone to wait in the hall,” James said firmly as he peeled one of Rick’s eyes open and shinned a penlight in it.

Zeke, Rosita and Maggie reluctantly left, Paul taking Vincent over to the other bed, setting him down as carefully as he could and casting his eyes around for anything he could use to restrain the man once he woke up. He dug in some draws and finally found some thin rope, not the best quality but enough to make sure Vincent couldn’t go anywhere until they’d had time to question him.

Paul tied him up gently but efficiently, confident that the man wouldn’t be able to get out of them before he moved to join Maggie, Rosita and Ezekiel in the hall.

“What are we gonna do?” Maggie asked them as Paul shut the door behind him, her face dark and drawn, the very mention of Negan enough to transform her back into the person she’d been during the war. “They attacked _Rick_. That is not a good sign. There’s some serious unrest here, too many people feelin’ too many extreme emotions over what happened and what Rick decided. This is just the beginnin’ of it.”

Silence met her words, Paul believing the exact same thing. He’d known the people were angry, unbearably so, and that being told they simply had to let it go was too much for them. There was always going to be some explosion, he just didn’t think it’d be so bold as to attack their leader. 

“We’ll deal with it,” he told her firmly, fully prepared to be her rock until she was steady again, until she could banish the memories of what Negan had done back down to the cellar in her mind that she stored them. “ _I’ll_ deal with it. You guys just stay safe okay? Alexandria knows you both want to fight, that we came here to ask Rick to join us. He said no and that made him an enemy but I think you two are safe. I’ll question Victor once he comes round.”

“We should send for Michonne,” Ezekiel said after a moment, “she’ll want to be with Rick.”

Paul nodded. “Yeah, we should. I don’t really want her to see him like this, but you’re right. She’ll want to be here.”

“I’ll go,” Rosita said. “And I’ll make sure not to wake Judith. I’ll stay at the house and keep an eye on her whilst Michonne comes here. I doubt any of them would dare hurt Judith, but anger and grief...” she looked at Paul ruefully, “it fucks you up. Makes you do stuff you wouldn’t normally.”

Maggie nodded, expression grateful. “Thanks Rosita. Try and at least rest a bit. We need you too.”

Rosita squeezed her shoulder gently as she passed, leaving the house and heading out into the night, leaving the rest of them in tense silence. Nobody moved until Michonne came rushing into the house, expression tense and worried.

“Where is he?!”

Maggie stood and moved to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “He’s okay, just beat up. Jesus and Rosita found him. He knocked one of Rick’s attackers out but the other got away. We’ll send someone out to track him once it’s light. Rick’s the most important thing right now.”

“I need to see him,” Michonne gritted out, moving around Maggie and looking towards the closed door.

Paul nodded at Maggie, moving to knock gently on the door and open it, allowing Michonne to enter. He was sure James wouldn’t begrudge Michonne being by Rick’s side and besides, he couldn’t stop her if he tried. Paul knew if it was him, he’d damn well break the door down if anyone ever tried to keep him away from a hurt Daryl.

Silence fell amongst them once again, time passing at a crawl until the door finally opened and James came out, indicating they could go in now. Paul let Maggie rush in first, hanging behind slightly with Ezekiel, coming in finally to see Maggie holding Rick’s spare hand, Michonne firmly attached to the other.

Despite their odd, often tense relationship, Maggie still loved Rick and always would, her expression worried as she looked down at his bloodied, beaten face.

“You’re okay Rick,” she said gently, “it’ll be okay. We’ll make sure they’re punished for what they did.”

“No,” Rick gritted out as Paul moved closer, “leave it to me. I need Jackson found. He’s... he’s the most dangerous one.”

“It’s okay Rick,” Michonne reassured, kissing his hand, “we’ll find him. I’ll go out with a group and track him once it’s light. He won’t get away with this.”

“Good. That’s... good. Keep Vincent here for now, under guard. Need him later.”

“Okay, you just rest.”

“No, no time. Maggie, Jesus?” He looked at them intensely, even with just his one un-swollen eye.

“I need you to call a meeting.”

Paul might occasional struggle to get a read on Rick, but as he looked down at the bloody, bruised man in the bed, Paul damn well knew something had changed in him. Yeah, something big was coming.

 

“At least get cleaned up Rick,” Maggie said as she and Michonne helped him up the hall steps, Paul staying close behind incase Rick’s shaking legs gave out.

“No,” Rick forced out, voice rough, “they need to see me like this.”

He swayed on his feet, Michonne grabbing his arm. “Rick come on, you need to lie down, this can wait.”

“No! No it can’t. I’m fine Michonne. I need to do this now.”

Catching Maggie’s eye as she turned to him, Paul nodded. Rick was right, this needed addressing now and as he expected Rick intended, Paul knew the people would be shocked by his appearance.

Rick gently brushed Maggie and Michonne off, pushing open the door of the hall, his entrance was met with gasps and calls of concern. Rick ignored all of it as he forced himself up to the front of the hall and onto the stage, pausing in full view for everyone to get a good look at him. Even though Paul had seen it all already, he had to admit it was a shocking sight.

Maggie and Michonne moved to join Ezekiel at the front of the stage but Paul stayed where he was, right at the back of the hall, the mess of scared, confused people in front of him. An anxious twisting started up in his gut, Paul knowing just from the look on Rick’s face that something in him had changed.

“As you might have guessed from lookin’ at me,” Rick began, voice rough but commanding, the hall falling immediately silent, “I’ve been attacked, only a few hours ago. I was ambushed in the dark and beaten.”

He looked out at them all, eyes damning. “And it wasn’t the Whisperers, it wasn’t anyone invading us, it was from two of our own.”

Gasps and muttering arose from the crowd once more, Rick silencing them again with a difficult raising of his hand.

“These attackers thought I wasn’t doing enough, that I was being a coward, that I was letting the Whisperers walk all over us and get away with what they’d done. And do ya know what? Maybe they were right.”

The unease in Paul grew, honestly not sure where Rick was about to go with all this. And if there was one thing Paul hated, it was not knowing which way the wind was blowing.

“I’ve been afraid,” Rick continued, “I’ve been so afraid of what another war could mean, what it might take from us, and from me, once again. I still _am_ afraid. I’m afraid of what might become of us if we return to the old ways, to having to fight. We’ve worked so damn hard to move on from that, to bring back civilisation to this uncivilised world. We shouldn’t have to do it all again!”

Paul felt a shiver go down his spine at the break in Rick’s voice, at the passion and pain, the raw honesty and the way he always spoke like he was directing his words right to your soul. It was one of his greatest talents and it’d been a long fucking time since Paul felt he’d really been watching Rick Grimes.

Rick looked down at the ground, voice choked. “I lost my son in that war. My _son_. And I know so many of you have lost loved ones too. I would have done anything to avoid a fight, to try and keep us safe and out of the way here. But I was wrong.”

The silence was so thick it was almost suffocating, every breath seeming to pause as Rick spoke.

“I don’t say that to appease you, or to apologise. I was doing what I thought was best at the time. But I’ve come to realise I was wrong and as your leader, it is my duty to get us through this! To make sure we don’t lose what we’ve already fought so fuckin’ hard for!”

The door of the hall opened once again, Paul turning to see Rosita dragging a bound Victor inside.

“Bring him up.”

The people turned and watched Victor be dragged to the front of the hall and up on the stage like a man going to his execution. Dropping to his knees in front of Rick, Vincent looked up in abject horror, Rick looking down on him with his one good eye. Paul honestly couldn’t say what Rick would do next.

“This is one of the attackers,” Rick announced coldly. “The other ran, but he will be found. They ambushed me in the dark, attacked me and would have left me for dead.”

“I’m so sorry!” Vincent began, begging at Rick’s feet. “I’ve lost my son, my whole point for livin’. I wasn’t thinkin’. I was so damn angry! I was only meanin’ to scare ya! It just- it just all happened so fast! I’m sorry. Please... please don’t... my wife she _needs_ -“

“-stop,” Rick interrupted, Vincent flinching as Rick raised his hand. But he didn’t strike him, didn’t go for his gun or any of the things Vincent was probably expecting. Instead, he held out his hand to him.

“I’m not going to kill you. Not when there are so many out there trying to do that already, to all of us. We need you Vincent. We need everyone.”

Vincent looked up, shock clear on his face as he was untied by Rosita, hesitantly accepting Rick’s hand as he was pulled to his feet.

“We all have a role to play in this,” Rick continued, turning to face the crowd once more, “each and every one of us. We need to come together and become strong once again before we are torn apart. Evil is at our doorstep once again! The Whisperers are out there and our very existence is a thorn in the side of everythin’ they believe in!”

Paul could hardly believe what he was hearing. How had Rick had such a drastic change of opinion in such a short amount of time? Sure it could be the attack, but Paul knew Rick, knew how fucking immovable he was once he’d made his decision. A little attack wouldn’t be enough to change that, he was almost positive. No, whatever had happened, Paul felt in his bones it came from something other than that attack.

“This is not a time to fight between ourselves! This is not a time to hurt our own! It is time to come together, to find our strength once more... and kill the Whisperers!”

Noise began to ripple through the crowd, the energy rising as people finally got what they wanted, a promise of revenge, of retribution.

“We will not be defeated!” Rick shouted over the rising noise, “we will not be erased from this earth! We will come together to silence the Whispers! Once and for all!”

As cheers and applause broke out, the crowd chanting ‘Rick Grimes’ with vicious joy on their faces, Paul didn’t move.

In the crowd of riled up, blood hungry people, Paul couldn’t help but look at Rick Grimes and wonder what the fuck had just been started. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My darlings! The loves of my life! I am so sorry for the wait! Work literally owns my arse and I’ve hardly had time to breathe let alone write! But here it is!! Shit is kicking off now my darlings! Are we all ready?? 
> 
> Also, this was my first time writing anything even remotely smutty, so please be kind to me! I cringed through most of it xD 
> 
> Please drop me a comment, they fuel me and reassure me I’m not just shouting into the void xD sorry again ducks! Xxxx


	6. Chapter 6

“That’s right,” Daryl shouted over the din of gunfire, “keep at ‘em! ‘S already thinnin’ out!”

He watched closely as the advanced class cleared a small group of walkers from the patrol route. Daryl wasn’t too worried about them though, knowing that they could all handle themselves should the shit hit the fan. Dante had been very disappointed to be left behind, but a broken leg and walkers were never a good mix. Instead, Daryl left him as Carol’s assistant as she gave a lesson in knife throwing back at Hilltop.

Daryl was pretty sure he had a steadily darkening bruise on his ribs earned by slyly hinting to Carol that Paul could do it better after her demonstration.

He’d most _definitely_ had a steadily darkening blush when Carol managed to turn _that_ particular phrase on its head, sending him scurrying away before he imploded with embarrassment.

It’d been two days since he’d left Alexandria, throwing himself into getting the people split up into groups matching their level of skill and training the living shit out of them. He’d also kept himself busy by getting Lydia integrated into the community, the kid hardly believing she was back and welcomed once again into Enid’s room.

It was a joy to see how much she was enjoying herself, still skittish and withdrawn at times, still quiet too, but her eyes were always shinning now, always looking up and around instead of at the ground. Daryl hated to admit how much it warmed his heart, listening intently as Lydia had debriefed him about her day when they’d met for the communal evening meal each night. Normally Daryl avoided them like the plague, him and Paul usually grabbing their food and eating at their bench or cooking something in their trailer, but Lydia loved them.

Daryl thought it was the comfort of being in a large crowd again. She’d said she’d never been alone before, so trying to keep her out of something she obviously still needed would have been cruel. He’d just suffered through it each night with minimal grumbling, practically hearing Paul’s ribbing in the back of his mind about him being a soft touch.

The very thought of Paul sent his emotions spinning again, missing him so much it hurt, worry screaming through his brain as he thought over every possible scenario that could be happening back in Alexandria. Sleeping in their bed alone was awful, Daryl hardly able to believe that after a whole lifetime of sleeping alone, it felt almost foreign now to not have that warm presence next to him, to not be able to reach out and touch or just hear him breathe.

Still, Daryl couldn’t help but grudgingly admit it was the right choice to have them both training the communities, and Carol too once she met up with Ezekiel and headed back to the Kingdom. She certainly had enough rage and motivation to whip their forces up into a real threat.

It’d been awful telling her about Dianne and Rosie, horrible watching her mourn for people she cared about yet again. He was getting sick of being the barer of bad news for her.

He was just grateful to not have to be the one to tell the rest of Hilltop what happened.

Nobody else knew yet, nobody but Carol. He and Paul had decided to leave it to Maggie, Paul convincing him to stay quiet about it as they talked in the few quiet hours before he set off for Hilltop. Daryl hadn’t been sure at first, sickened at the thought of looking at the blissfully unaware families and friends of people he knew damn well were never coming home, and saying nothing.

It was the right choice though; Maggie was their leader, the one they all looked to for answers and support. It would be wrong to tell them without that comfort and strength in place, wrong to plunge the whole community into grief and anger with no way to control or ease it.

Once Maggie returned, she’d break the news and be the right person to deal with the fallout.

“Alright guys, wrap it up, we’re done!”

As the last of the walkers dropped, his advanced group looking tired but proud after yet another successful patrol route, Daryl called them all back in.

“Good job guys, real good job. Next patrol’s gon’ have it easy after you lot.”

He watched a bunch of them beam in silent happiness at a job well done, others high fiving their friends. It was admittedly nice to be working with a group again. Daryl wouldn’t say he was in charge of them as such, but he was leading them into being better, more capable fighters and protectors for their community and loved ones. It made him proud to see how fast they’d advanced and to know he had a hand it it.

The trip back to Hilltop was easy, their group having cleared any straggling walkers along the route, arriving back in under half an hour. There was a huddle of people waiting as the gates slowly swung open, heavier after their rushed re-enforcement, who rushed forward to check on their loved ones.

Daryl stayed back and watched the relief as everyone reassured themselves that the whole group had come back, that everyone was okay. It’d become a regular occurrence ever since Daryl began taking groups out, so many of the people skilled but unused to being outside the walls, unused to running the patrol routes.

And even though they didn’t know the full extent of the recent situation, Hilltop knew about the Whisperers and knew to fear them, worrying constantly over what fresh hell they could unleash upon their community.

“Daryl!”

He turned and saw a beaming Lydia jog towards him, something in his gut flipping over at how happy she looked to see him. She didn’t hug him when she reached him, but she did lean into him as he roughly rubbed a hand over her scruffy hair, messing it up even worse as she grinned.

“All good kid? Earl keepin’ you busy?”

In an odd turn of events, Lydia had been immediately fascinated with watching Earl in his shack, hammering away and shaping metal; knives, tools and other objects steadily appearing under his skilled hands. She was too shy to talk to him at first but couldn’t seem to help but hang around and watch until, without any kind of fuss, Earl shouted her over and told her to hold something for him, then to move something, then to look over something he’d just made until before she even realised it, Lydia was confidently and happily chattering away with Earl, eagerly listening to everything he explained he was doing.

Two days and a conversation with Lydia and Daryl later, she was Earl’s new assistant and apprentice.

“Yeah! He was making knives and spears today. I didn’t get to do much but I helped out. He said I did a good job!”

She smiled shyly, like she was still unsure about expressing something positive about herself. Daryl was hoping to break her of that eventually, wanting to see her be open and proud of herself, wanting for her what had taken so long for him and what, honestly, he still struggled with. Paul too, for all his show off tendencies.

“‘Course you did kid. Well done, ‘m proud of ya.”

Her little fucking face lit up, Daryl still getting a shock whenever he saw it. It was nice though, he wanted her to look like that all the time.

“You hungry?” she asked eagerly. “Martha let me help her cook a bit! I made you stew!”

Daryl’s heart melted and he was man enough to admit it, rubbing his hand over Lydia’s hair again and roughing it up even worse.

“Yeah, ‘m starvin’.”

With an actual bounce in her step, she lead him over to the big wooden dinning tables on the lawn outside of Barrington, all but pushing him into a seat opposite Dante and Carol before she rushed off to the kitchen.

“How’d it go pookie?”

Daryl just rolled his eyes at her name for him, shrugging in answer. “Yeah, ‘s good. Ain’t got much to teach em really, just gotta practice on patrols more. How’s yours?”

Dante snorted into his food, Carol elbowing him in the side hard.

“They’re not the best,” she hedged, “but they’re improving.“

“Here you go!”

Daryl would deny to his dying day that Lydia’s sudden appearance made him jump, he really would, but he had to admit the kid moved fucking silently. He was strangely pleased with that, already planning to take her out hunting once all the Whisperer shit was over. He was damn sure Paul would be bringing her on his trouble causing rounds too.

Looking down at the bowl she’d unceremoniously plonked in front of him, he steeled his face.

“Err, looks good kid.”

It did not. It did not look good. Not at all.

Daryl knew Dante and Carol were trying not to laugh at him, he could practically feel the unholy glee coming off of them.

“I made it all myself,” she said shyly, “not sure how good it’ll be but I tried my best. Go ahead!”

Resisting the urge to flip off the practically vibrating duo in front of him, Daryl gritted his teeth. He would eat it and he would damn well look like he’d enjoyed it, there was simply no other option, not with Lydia’s eager face sat next to him.

Mentally preparing himself, Daryl took a spoonful of the stew that somehow managed to be both thin and gloopy, stringy and thick. Hard lumps of veg that he was sure were just raw shoved in with that had to be the fatty offcuts of whatever the cooks were actually using. It was murky and the bowl felt lukewarm at best.

At Lydia’s nod and a muffled noise of joy from Dante, Daryl placed the spoonful in his mouth, the salty, musty, overpoweringly disgusting flavour hitting his tongue like a brick to the face. Trying not to let any of his suffering show on his face, Lydia watching far too closely, he gingerly chewed what he supposed he should call meat, internally cringing at the texture and swallowing it down as soon as was physically possible.

Now, Daryl was no fussy eater, he really wasn’t. He’d never had the option as a kid and had developed an iron stomach, able to eat anything, even past its sell by date. After the world ended, it only got stronger and Daryl would eat anything to keep him going.

However, he had to admit, the last two years had spoiled him. Between the simple but tasty stuff he and Paul made, to the truly incredible meals the cooks could whip up, he’d somehow gotten used to being able to enjoy what he ate rather than just wolf it down for survival.

He really wished he could take a knife to his tastebuds right now, the flavour lingering strongly in his mouth after he swallowed.

“So? Do you like it?”

Trying to channel Paul’s skill of lying through his perfect teeth, Daryl nodded. “Yeah, it’s err, good. Great job.”

“Aww I’m so glad! Eat up then! I made plenty more too!”

Despite his stomach and sense of flavour wanting to curl up and die, Daryl forced two more mouthfuls until something twigged.

Looking closely at the kid next to him, Daryl noticed her subtly shaking shoulders, the odd way she was holding her mouth shut. He dropped the spoon into the bowl.

“You little shit.”

And with that, Lydia cracked, an actual cackle bursting out of her mouth, Carol and Dante joining in as they realised Daryl had just been completely and utterly had. He could hear laughter coming from the side entrance of Barrington, looking over at the kitchen door and seeing Enid and the cooks laughing at his earnest attempts not to hurt Lydia’s feeling over the fucking awful food.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up ya little asshole,” he grumbled, flicking a spoonful of the mess at her as she bent over laughing. Despite the awful taste in his mouth and everyone laughing at his suffering, he had to admit he liked that she was opening up more, getting comfortable, steadily realising she wouldn’t be punished or kicked out for not being silent and perfectly obedient.

God help him when she inevitably teamed up with Paul though. Him and every other poor fucker in Hilltop.

He was finally given a proper bowl of food and they all dug in, the evening light darkening around them, the candles and torches making their world feel small and cosy. Daryl found himself content even in his constant state of worry and missing Paul. In the little bubble of warm, flickering light, his family talking and laughing around him, he found a little slice of peace.

 

Daryl sighed and rolled over again in bed, giving up on sleep and resigning himself to a few hours of staring at the roof of the trailer and wishing Paul was next to him. Probably followed by worrying over what this next war might bring, rounded off with worst case scenarios that always followed him either into exhausted sleep for an hour or all the way through to the light of dawn. He was debating on whether to get some air when a hesitant knock sounded on the trailer door.

Confused, he got up and made his way over, slowly opening the door to see a sheepish Lydia stood in the doorway.

“The hell ya doin’ out here at this time kid? You okay?”

She hesitated for a second before shaking her head. “Had a... a bad dream. Can I- can I come in? If you don’t mind, it’s fine though, I can go if you were sleeping. Sorry-“

“Jesus kid, shut up. Course you can come in.”

He ushered her inside, the relief on her face making his guts twist. In the light of the trailer, he could see how pale she was, how shaken, the shadows back in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself. Daryl gently shoved her towards the couch and grabbed the ugly as sin but incredibly warm blanket Paul had found somewhere, dropping it over her slightly shaking shoulders.

He didn’t speak and neither did she, Daryl moving to the kitchen and grabbing the jug of milk from that morning and the tin of hot chocolate powder, pouring both into a pan on the stove. He made it just like Paul did, dropping a cinnamon stick into each of the huge mugs he’d selected. It was a big mug kind of night, that he was sure of.

He handed it over to the kid and perched on the arm of the couch on her opposite side. He didn’t watch her, not obviously at least, not wanting her to feel examined or studied or pressured into talking. He was just there, what she did with that was up to her.

He was halfway through his drink when she finally spoke, voice quiet and scratchy.

“I dreamt about the pikes,” she whispered into the silence, “about what my- what Alpha did. I dreamt about all of them.”

Daryl made an acknowledging noise, not wanting to interrupt just yet.

“And that’s not the worst thing. The worst thing is I woke up and stared at the ceiling and... and I missed them. How can I miss them? Doesn’t that make me a terrible person? They’re bad, I know that, they do and always have done awful things but...”

“But they’re you’re family,” he finished for her, hating the little cut off sob that managed to escape her.

“It’s bad, I know,” she forced out, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m happy here, so happy and you’re all wonderful. I just miss them. Not everythin’ that happened and not all the time, just sometimes. When I’m alone.”

Daryl sighed, moving from the arm and sitting down next to her. “Look kid, it’s normal. Ya don’t gotta be sorry. They were all you knew, all you had, for so many years. Course it’s gonna take a while to stop missin’ em. And yeah, they ain’t the best, they done awful shit but... I know what that’s like, to miss people you know ain’t good, that didn’t treat ya right. Just how it works sometimes.”

She turned to look at him. “Really?” 

Daryl cleared his throat awkwardly, always hating talking about his family, even all these years later. But for the kid, he’d do it. Fuck he really was a soft touch.

“Yeah. ‘M family weren’t no good. Momma died when I was young, Daddy was a bastard. But ‘m brother, we was all each other had. He was a bastard too, did bad things and dragged my ass into em too. He tried to make me like him, to ‘fix me’ an’ shit. Didn’t figure out till recently that I weren’t broke.” 

He exhaled shakily, sipping his drink again for a second, fighting down the lump in his throat. 

“Thing is though, I miss him. He died a while ago, doin’ somethin’ good for once in his useless life. He was a bad piece of shit but he was ‘m brother. So it’s okay to miss ya mom, the rest of em too. Maybe that’ll go away after a while, maybe it won’t, but it is what it is.”

Lydia roughly wiped at her eyes, leaning into his side and nodding. “‘Kay. Thanks. I don’t wanna go back to them or anything. Not ever. It’s just hard sometimes getting used to all this.” 

Daryl hesitated before wrapping an arm around her back. “Yeah kid, I get that too. But ya doin’ the right thing, making a life for yaself. ‘M proud of ya, Paul is too. Bet he’ll get ya makin’ all of his knives soon. It’ll drive ya crazy.”

“I’ll make him loads,” she said eagerly against his side, “real good ones. Might have to wait a bit though, Earl won’t let me do nothing proper yet.” 

“Just gotta wait and learn is all. Earl’s good people, he’ll get ya trained up and look out for ya. We all will.” 

She cuddled further against his side. “Thanks Daryl,” she mumbled before falling silent. It wasn’t long until Daryl noticed she’d fallen asleep, right against him, like she felt safe with him. He felt strangely choked over that, heart fucking swelling as he gently moved and settled her down on the couch properly, covering her over with the blanket. 

He didn’t sleep much that night, sitting on the bed and listening to Lydia’s breathing. He hoped she wouldn’t have any more nightmares, ready to wake her up if she did, and despite the heaviness of his eyes and body, Daryl’s brain felt wide awake. 

There was panic blossoming in his gut once again, different but similar to the feeling he’d had when he’d realised he had some kind of _thing_ for Paul. That urge to run, to pull away, to hide because that feeling would only get stronger, would only bind him to that person even tighter and if something happened to them... it’d hurt him too much to bare.

Somehow, Lydia had gotten further under his skin than he’d realised. It was terrifying.

She was just a kid, just a sad, scared, messed up kid and she’d somehow decided to look to him for guidance and comfort. He wasn’t stupid, he knew she was getting attached to him, to Paul too, but it worried him. What the fuck would they do if something happened to her?

But just as with Paul, Daryl knew it was too late. Even pushing her away now would do no good, hurting her in the process for something that wasn’t her fault. He couldn’t do that to her, couldn’t abandon her too. He’d just have to keep her safe, him and Paul both. Nothing else was acceptable.

When daylight finally began streaming weakly through the windows, breaking Daryl out of his worries and thoughts, he dragged himself out of bed, dressing quietly and heading to the kitchen, cracking some eggs and making two omelettes.

Lydia woke quickly once they started cooking, sitting down at the table with a small smile. They ate and chatted, Daryl answering her questions about what life used to be like as best as he could. It was nice, sharing the morning with her. Especially the look of absolute suspicion after he’d first placed the omelet in front of her, relishing the way she tentatively tasted it before digging it. He’d get the little shit back for her stew stunt one day, but only when she’d least expect it.

She vanished off to her room to change not long after, needing to get to Earl’s early. She hugged him before she left, just quickly, barely a hug at all but it made something warm and almost unbearable erupt in his chest, having to take a moment before he too stepped out into the early morning light.

Though Hilltop was always busy, always full of people working ingeniously to make ends meet, to keep everything going, it’d never seemed as busy as it had the past few days. Daryl met with his advanced group every morning and took them out, the routes always needing clearing after a night of walkers potentially roaming all over them. It was an easy couple of hours as always, the activity allowing Daryl to forget his worries, just for a little bit. He even managed to bag a few rabbits whilst he was out, handing them off to the kitchens and dodging questions from Hilltops worst gossips as usual.

Though Daryl and Paul were rarely able to spend time together during the day, not unless they were out scouting or working together, his absence still felt like a neon light as he moved through the community. Usually he could at least catch sight of him, rushing about from here to there, chatting and doing and helping. Daryl still caught himself looking for him.

The hours began to blur as he and Carol teamed up to teach some newbies; the young teens who’d only been kids during the last war, people who’d been found after it and brought into the community, hell, anyone who felt like they needed to learn new methods of protecting themselves and the people they cared about.

It was slow going with them the past two days, but they seemed to be progressing, something like pride filling Daryl as he watched them, touched by their commitment to improving, by the way they worked together. He doubted they’d ever be sent out to fight should it come to that, but he thought they’d be a good team to leave behind and keep the communities safe, to protect their land and more importantly, the old, the young, and those unable to fight for whatever reason.

At just after midday, Daryl heard activity at the gate, both he and Carol looking at each other with barely contained relief. They called a halt to the lesson and made their way to the gate in time to see Maggie and Ezekiel enter Hilltop, the rest of the people and wagons following behind. 

Carol squeezed Daryl’s shoulder gently, sympathy on her face before she made her way over to the King.

Despite logically knowing Paul wouldn’t be coming back yet, he’d still hoped. Maybe he’d come back just for a check up or to protect Maggie on the journey before heading back to Alexandria. Daryl would have taken even five minutes with him gratefully. But no, he was still there and Daryl was still here, the distance between the communities feeling farther and more fraught with danger than ever. 

Still, he squeezed Maggie in a tight hug once she’d made her way over to him, holding her close to him and feeling how she clutched him back, relieved to have another part of his family back with him. 

“You okay?” he asked lowly when she stayed in the hug longer than normal, seeing how pale she looked when she finally did pull back. 

“I don’t know how to tell them,” she admitted, looking around to make sure they weren’t overheard. “How do I explain why their people haven’t come home? Their friends and family? They’ve already started asking, wondering. I can see it and hear it and feel it. That old panic. How do I break them like this? Again.”

“Hey, if anyone can it’s you. Yeah, ya need to do it soon, it’ll only get worse if you don’t. Still feel bad I just came here and didn’t say shit, just to leave it all to you. But they need ya, they need their leader and friend. Just do what ya always do. Talk to em, connect to em. Show you’re grieving too and that we ain’t gonna let it slide.” 

Maggie exhaled shakily and nodded, face going still and tight, shoulders straightening. She really was a fucking marvel. 

“Yeah. I’ll call them all together now. ‘fore I do, are you okay?”

Daryl shrugged. “Yeah, gotta be. Just keepin’ goin’ really. Gettin’ people trained up, ready to fight or stay here and protect the place. They’re doin’ good, you’ll be proud of em. I am.”

Maggie smiled just a bit. “I’m so glad you’re here Daryl,” she said softly, so earnestly that Daryl had to duck his head and not look at her. “No, I am. This place needs you and so do I. Thank you for bein’ here, doin’ what you do.” 

Daryl shuffled his feet awkwardly, wishing he could sink into himself and disappear. “Ain’t nothin’.”

“It is, but I won’t push it, so you can stop lookin’ like a damn tortoise already.”

He flipped her the bird but relaxed, both of them watching the carts being unloaded, people talking. People looking around for those missing.

“You don’t gotta stay Daryl. Go wait with Carol, I’ll explain everythin’.” 

Daryl shook his head, even as he’d have happily run from it. “Nah, ain’t gonna leave ya to that alone. Ain’t gonna say shit, but I’ll stay with ya.” 

Maggie’s eye grew worryingly shiny for a second before she cleared her throat, pulling on her leader face with a stubbornness Daryl always admired. With a nod, she turned and walked back into the fray of people, Daryl following slowly behind, heart in his damn throat. 

He heard Maggie call for a meeting, saw people’s faces go pale as they all gathered with a tension you could cut. Ezekiel came and joined them a few moments later, leaving Carol in the crowd as he stood beside Maggie.

Daryl however, stayed stood behind Maggie as she began to talk to the people in front of her. It was so different from Rick’s grand announcements; she wasn’t safe on a platform above them, she was amongst them. He understood Rick’s methods of course, but he always respected Maggie’s way of getting amongst her people.

Once again the actual announcement passed in a blur, Daryl only focusing on the faces in front of him. It was worse this time, worse seeing people he lived with, people he actually knew and cared for, collapse in grief or explode with anger. It was honestly heartbreaking.

He saw the odd glare sent his way, knowing that there would be anger and hurt over why he’d waited, why he hadn’t let them know when he came back. He’d known that when they’d decided to wait for Maggie, but to actually see it and feel it was harder than Daryl had thought. It’d been the right choice though, of that he was sure. No way he could have handled this himself. 

People staggered off after Maggie finished speaking, some alone and shocked, some clinging in groups. All felt the losses and the fear of what they might yet still have to lose. 

Maggie and Zeke stayed where they were, somber but immovable, presenting a strong united front for people to look to in their grief and fear. They didn’t move until the last person had wandered off, turning to each other and finally showing their exhaustion. Christ, Zeke still had his own community to go and tell. The thought made him look around for Carol, knowing she wouldn’t have gone far even if she hadn’t wanted to be too visible. He saw her leaning against one of the trailers, face drawn and blank, eyes fixed firmly on Ezekiel.

He headed over to her, Maggie and Zeke talking quietly as they slowly followed. 

“You alrigh’?” he asked her, not liking the lost look in her eyes. She nodded slowly.

“Haven’t got a choice. There’s no time to fall apart.” 

She was right but he still didn’t like it. Wasn’t healthy to keep all that shit bottled up and throw yourself into the fight, he should know. She’d end up doing something she’d regret yet again, just another thing to add to the pile of guilt she carried always. She needed to talk, to grieve, get it settled before they went into battle again.

Fucking hell, who’d have thought Daryl would ever be an advocate for talking instead of repressing.

Before he could do something stupid like actually suggest that to her, they were joined by Zeke and Maggie. They looked exhausted, wrung out and pale but pure rage underneath it all. He didn’t bother asking if they were okay, neither did Carol, they just followed as Maggie led them into Barrington and up to her office, closing the door behind them.  

Daryl watched as she went to the shelves behind her desk, getting the decanter and glasses sat there. She poured them all a healthy measure, passing them out before sitting heavily and downing half her glass in one go.

Daryl sniffed his glass, recognising whisky of some kind and followed Maggie’s example. The burn was exactly what he needed, clearing some of the numbness away and leaving him as mentally with it as he ever managed to be. 

“So,” Maggie said after a few minutes of heavy silence, “what’s next. The people know now and once the shock has worn off, they’ll want to hear we have a plan. So we need to come up with one. I need a progress update for what’s been happening here, how they’re progressing. Jesus has been training groups over in Alexandria and it’s good going so far. He and Michonne seem to be managing Rick well too but... think Rick when we first came to Alexandria.”

She directed that dry remark at Daryl and Carol, both of them knowing exactly what she meant. Silence fell for a second before Daryl cleared his throat, fighting down the urge to ask more about Paul and instead updating her on what he and Carol had been doing in Hilltop.

Maggie was pleased with them and the conversation moved on, Daryl listening and interjecting where needed as Zeke told them he needed to return to the Kingdom as soon as possible to get them ready and deliver the news. Carol would be going with him of course, but he couldn’t help but wish she’d stay. It was a bad habit he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to fully break, that desire for them to stick together.

They didn’t come up with anything new, not really, but they did decide that Zeke and Carol would head back first thing tomorrow morning and begin their own preparations whilst Daryl carried on training at Hilltop. They also began talks of reopening Sasha’s secret exit, just in case they ever needed to evacuate Hilltop. It was a chilling thought but very needed, Daryl knowing that the Whisperers had no sense of honour. They would fight dirty and wouldn’t stop until every man, woman and child was dead. There needed to be an escape route should it come down to Hilltop being completely overrun.

Maggie also said they’d reconnect with Alexandria in two days for an update, Daryl immediately volunteering to be the runner for that, flipping the bird at Carol’s knowing look. Maggie agreed though, so he couldn’t give a shit how many looks got sent his way. She did mention that Jesus had also volunteered to be a runner, a stupid smirk on her face that still didn’t manage to dampen his relief and fucking excitement over that. It wouldn’t be too long now, he could handle two more days.

“Right,” she said finally as their conversation drew to a close, “kindly fuck off. I need some time with Hershel before I can start feeling remotely human again.”

Zeke chuckled and stood, Carol moving to give Maggie a quick hug before they left, Daryl lingering for a moment.

“You did good,” he said gruffly, meeting her eyed when she looked up at him. “You’re a good leader Mags, the best we got. Even if shit gets rougher, don’t forget it.”

Maggie smiled, soft and sweet, reminding him so much of her sister in that second that his chest clenched.

“Thank you Daryl. And thank you for what you’re doing, I know what it’s costing ya.”

“It was the right thing to do. Ain’t gotta like it though.” 

She grabbed him for another hug before she pulled away and started to walk backwards towards her desk, a worryingly devious smile spreading over her face. 

“Oh by the way,” she said offhandedly “you wouldn’t happen to know who put those hickies on Jesus’ neck would ya?”

Daryl felt his face flame up, desperately wishing the floor would open and swallow him whole as Maggie burst out laughing. Fucking evil woman, he always knew she was. He left without another word as quick as he could without all out running, Maggie’s laughter following him out.

From the way Carol and Zeke were grinning as they waited for him in the corridor, Daryl had a feeling they knew exactly what Maggie had said to him.

“Don’t fucking dare,” he growled as he moved swiftly between them, glaring when both of them went to open their damn mouths. Carol smirked, Zeke outright laughing as they followed his lead outside, the cool air hitting his burning face and hopefully taking it down a few shades.

Even as he started debating the pros and cons of going back to living in the woods, he was convinced to join Carol and Zeke at a quiet table away from the main hustle and bustle of the community dinner.

Despite the dark, heavy grief he could clearly see in the whole community, Daryl managed to separate from it for a moment, retreating into his own little corner with Carol and Zeke, the King dropping his Shakespeare shit whilst it was just the three of them. First impressions aside, Zeke really was a good dude and even if he’d die before admitting it, Daryl couldn’t help but think he was just fucking _cool_. 

It was also nice in a slightly cringe inducing way to see how much he loved and cared for Carol. She deserved it after everything she’d been through and he was so pleased she’d found it. In the end, despite never thinking they would, both Carol and Daryl had found that. Who would have thought.

“Open the gate!”

They all looked up at the scream, recognising the voice as Michonne. Daryl was the first up, sprinting towards the gate with Carol and Zeke close on his heels. He got there in time to watch them open the gate, Michonne charging in on her horse.

“Someone get the doctor! I think he stopped breathing!” she shouted, genuine fear in her voice. 

Daryl’s heart stopped as he saw the blood soaked figure she was cradling against herself. 

“No,” he whispered hollowly.

 

———

  

Paul was concerned. Worried. Fucking apprehensive as shit. He covered it but Rick’s sudden change in behaviour, the frenzy he was building up within Alexandria and the constant, lingering presence of Negan in the back of his mind was driving Paul to distraction. The fact that Michonne never managed to find Jackson, having to return when the pitch black of the night got too dangerous, didn’t help either.

Not to mention splitting his time between politics and training people who seemed not to have touched a weapon in far, far too long.

There were some fighters of course, that thankfully needed no refreshers, but the rest had allowed themselves to get rusty. He understood why, of course he did; not many could resist the temptation of convincing themselves that their battles were all fought now, that they could enjoy what they’d built, what seemed to only keep getting better. 

It was hard to wake up every morning with the dark reminder lingering in the back of your head that everything could be taken away in the blink of an eye. Paul would know, he’d had that dark spectre since he was seven years old. He wasn’t shocked that so many people would have convinced themselves it didn’t exist, to allow their hope and safety to overpower that. Simply put, they’d let their guard down, and it was Paul’s job to fix that.

It was nice of Rick to let him continue using Daryl’s old room, even as awkward and tense as it could get between them occasionally. Paul would put up with it though for even the barest hint of Daryl surrounding him as he tried to sleep. Still, the first night apart, just the first of what could end up being a lengthy separation, was hard.

Paul tossed and turned for hours, unable to get his racing mind to just go still and silent, even for a minute. He’d always had an overactive mind, as calm as he outwardly appeared, it never reflected the buzzing, constantly moving energy beneath his skin. Usually he could temper it himself, at least enough to get by and function and fucking sleep, but tonight there was no chance and he knew it.

Eventually he just had to get up and move, to try and burn out some of the buzzing, the constant scratching on the inside of his skull, the worries and plans and thoughts racing through his head, thoughts that all amounted to ‘your fault’, ‘you should have saved them’, ‘you failed again’.

He wished he was back in his trailer or back in Hilltop, able to go and sit on his roof and look at the stars, or go on a jog around the community. He wouldn’t chance that in Alexandria, not when there were so many itchy and inexperienced trigger fingers around. Besides, they weren’t as used to his oddities here as they were back at Hilltop. 

Instead he tried yoga, running through the hardest positions and transitions he knew, twisting and balancing himself into the most difficult shapes, forcing his breathing to slow and even out. Even that didn’t work, but his body did end up feeling pleasantly sore. 

In the end, he noticed his eyes just kept falling on his sketchbook. 

Sighing, he gently stretched himself back out and moved to pick his book off the floor, flipping through his sketches. Though he was always critical of his work, he had to admit they were pretty good, capturing those lost with as much accuracy and heart as he could. He was proud of them in a way, even if the only emotions connected with the whole situation were anger and grief and shock. 

He’d always planned to pass them on to the friends and family, but he’d really rather nobody know it was him that’d drawn them. It was weird, what with him admittedly being a bit of a show off at times, but it was the only skill he had that he liked to keep to himself, to have as strictly his. Daryl knew of course, but sharing anything with Daryl felt as natural now as breathing.

But as much as he wanted to share them, something in his gut wouldn’t let him. It felt like guilt; bitter and biting. Taking a moment to just look at his drawings and examine what he was feeling, Paul realised he didn’t want to hand them out yet. He wanted, no, _needed_ to wait until they’d been avenged. 

He carefully shut the sketchbook and put it away, knowing he was feeling far too twitchy to get any sleep. The least he could do was make himself useful and head to the gates. He pulled his boots on, tucking the ends of his sweatpants into them and throwing his leather coat over his thin tank top, any other layers feeling too heavy and restricting, too claustrophobic in his current weird mood.

He grabbed his knives before opening the small attic window and climbing out. He was mindful of his still healing shoulder, mentally apologising to Siddiq, as he slowly and carefully made his way down the side of the house and landing silently on the grass. 

Casting his eyes around the dark, empty streets, Paul tugged his coat tighter around himself, shivering in the chill of the night before setting off towards the gates. It didn’t take long to reach them, making his way over to one of the Alexandrians on guard, hoping they’d be alright with him helping. He didn’t particularly know them well, but they knew of him and thankfully didn’t have a problem with letting him join, sending him up to the left watch post.

There was somebody already there, though he didn’t recognise them, setting himself up comfortably against the metal railing and looking out into the stillness of the night in front of him. 

“Can’t sleep? Or do they just not trust me to keep watch on my own yet?” 

It wasn’t until they spoke that Paul recognised the other figure as Magna, the leader of the group he’d rescued before all the shit hit the fan. Fuck, it really did seem so long ago now, almost another lifetime. 

“The former for sure,” he reassured, shooting her a smile he hoped she could see in the moonlight. “Nice to see you again Magna, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah. You too.”

She was a woman of few words but Paul found he quite liked it. She reminded him of Daryl actually, the thought warming him in the cool night air. They sat in comfortable silence for a while before she shifted. 

“Thanks,” she said gruffly into the quiet, reminding him of Daryl yet again. “You saved us when you found us. Brought us here. So thanks.”

“Any time. I’m sorry too though. I brought you here saying you’d be safe and, well, you lost Luke and now we’re all in danger.” 

“Not your fault. Rather come across those fucks here than on our own. I will kill them though, for what they did, what they took from us. So anything I can do to help, tell me.” 

“Yeah, I will,” he said, surprised to find he meant it, hearing in her voice her absolute conviction and remembering the skill she had with a knife. “We’ll make it right. Never been much of a fan of revenge before, never saw the point in it to be honest. It doesn’t really solve anything and definitely doesn’t bring back the people you’ve lost. I just can’t seem to stop myself wanting it this time though, in some shape or form.”

He didn’t know why he was admitting that to her, an almost complete stranger, but he felt like he could. Maybe it was because she was new and had no preconceived ideas about who he was or what he’d always argued for in the past. Maybe it was just how much she reminded him of Daryl.

“Good,” was all she said, firm and resolute. Well, that was that then he supposed. 

He stayed on watch with Magna all night, finally leaving their post as the sun began to rise, handing it over to the next watch. They parted ways with a nod and a smile, Paul watching with a rising warm feeling as she was met with a quick kiss by one of the others from her group, Yumiko if he remembered rightly.

He watched them leave with fondness before turning back to Rick’s, climbing carefully up the side of the house and into the attic window. After a quick shower and change, Paul greeted Rick and Michonne in their kitchen, turning down their offer of breakfast. He wanted to visit Maggie first as he was pretty sure both she and Ezekiel would be leaving today. As much as he’d rather they stay, they were both needed as spearheads for their communities. He just wanted to strategise with them first, separately to Rick, even as part of him felt guilty for sneaking around.

It was still early as he made his way through Alexandria towards the guest house, people only just starting to emerge for communal breakfast or to start their work, making it easy for him to avoid conversations. Even in Alexandria people had started to use him as a source of information or a go-between for Rick, though not as much as Michonne bless her; the people flocking to her steady strength and character at a time when Rick felt, well, anything but steady. 

He knocked and was greeted by a far too enthusiastic Ezekiel for the time of morning, ushering him inside to the kitchen table where Maggie was nursing a cup of tea looking tired and deep in thought.

Paul felt a hand on his shoulder, muscles tightening instinctively then relaxing as he was steered into a seat by Ezekiel. 

“Sit my friend! There are eggs, fried tomatoes and toast on the way.” 

It was bemusing and highly entertaining to sit and watch Ezekiel make them all breakfast, the king humming cheerily as he cooked, both he and Maggie shooting each other fond looks at their friends actions. 

Paul knew the real man underneath all the theatricality, knew he was savvier and darker and full of more doubts than he ever let on, but he was also aware that the ‘King’ act was no lie, no more than his ‘Jesus’ thing was anyway. Paul was sure that Ezekiel needed that mask, needed to be able to cloak himself in a grand, cheery, larger than life character, someone that always bounced back from anything with a smile. As ways to cope went, it was healthier than most. 

They thanked him as Ezekiel presented them with a plate of genuinely delicious looking eggs and fried tomatoes, a basket of toasted bread with Hilltop butter following. Paul dug in with gusto, well aware he’d let himself get caught up in forgetting to eat again without Daryl there to all but throw food at him. 

They all chatted bullshit as they ate, purposefully ignoring anything heavy until they were finished. It was a well needed moment of peace, the sun shining gentle through the window and the faint sounds of a living, thriving community outside.

Paul washed up after they were finished, listening to Maggie and Ezekiel talking quietly before he returned to the table and they all grew sober.

“So,” Paul began, “are you going back to Hilltop today? And the Kingdom?”

Maggie nodded, “yeah we are. As much as I’d like to stay to, well, to keep an eye on everything here, I’m needed back at Hilltop. Hell, they don’t even know what happened yet, that people are _dead_. I need to be there for that, to reassure them that something is going to be done and that we will make ourselves safe. Plus, I’ve been away from Hershel for too long already and if I don’t get to squeeze him in the next few hours, I might explode.”

Ezekiel hmmm’d in agreement. “And I must collect my Queen and return to the Kingdom. They also have no idea of this, even less than Hilltop does. I have to warn and prepare them. I refuse to lose my people again.”

“Of course,” Paul agreed, not looking forward for losing their company and backup. “I’ll organise a guard for you, some Alexandrians I trust to help if anything happens. It’s good to get the communities mixing again, especially Hilltop and Alexandria. We’ve been too separate from each other for too long. We need stronger bonds, stronger teamwork.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Maggie said. “I’m sure Rick will be asking for reinforcements from Hilltop later and I’m willing to give them. We have more people and more fighters than here, more runners too. You trained them well already Jesus and Rick knows that. I’m going to use it as a reason for us to start sending volunteers between communities to train and interact, build up those strong bonds again. We’re all going to need to stick together should this fight actually happen. It can’t be an ‘us’ and ‘them’ situation. Everyone needs to care about every community as if it was there own.”

Ezekiel grinned as he nodded. “Yes! As I’ve been saying for a while, if you remember...”

Paul kicked him under the table, “yes yes, we know you did.”

“And you were right,” Maggie said soberly, interrupting the kick fight that had begun to erupt. “It’s my fault I think, or at least I had a lot to do with it. I never wanted to visit Alexandria, never wanted anything to do with it since... since _he’s_ still here. And I think I passed that on somehow until it was only you and a few other runners that mixed.

“I think Rick did the same too, maybe out of respect for my feelings at first or maybe he just thought it was the new world order after a while. Regardless, it was wrong and it’ll be harder to bring us together now. But we need to do it, we all need to be in this as equals.” 

Paul couldn’t agree more. He, and Daryl almost by extension, were probably the only ones who regularly visited all the communities, even Oceanside before it pulled away again. The Sanctuary had been sketchy for a while, Daryl refusing to go near it of course, but Paul still kept an eye on it now even if they all rarely integrated. 

This put him in a unique position and it was, and always had been, crystal clear that there was a divide between Alexandria and Hilltop. Both were fine with the Kingdom but each other... well, it’d been tense for a while. There was no time for that anymore though, and he was glad he wasn’t the only one who thought so.

They talked a little more after that, just solidifying their plans for training, for teaming up and protecting themselves should the Whisperers attack anyone travelling between the communities. Maggie was putting a stop to runs for a while too, something Paul agreed with even as it always chaffed at him when he couldn’t got out scavenging. 

The routes between the communities would still be patrolled but with far more people and at much closer intervals, both for protection and having more eyes there to look for anything odd. Paul was going to do his best to train people to notice the little differences between the walkers and the Whisperers, but even he had found it difficult when they were in a horde.

Far too soon, Paul began to say his temporary goodbyes, telling them to rest and pack whilst he went and organised the Alexandrian guards and as much of their spare produce as he could swing. Without going on runs, certain things would be running down for each community and they were going to have to share to help each other. 

He left them to their tea and talks as he began moving around Alexandria. He talked to some suitable and capable fighters, asking them if they’d accompany the caravan and was pleased when they agreed. Content with that as a job well done, he applied himself to the rest of it, negotiating more supplies for them to take back, things that Hilltop didn’t or couldn’t produce themselves. It was a success for the most part and by the time he was finished, all that was left to do was help load up their supplies and weapons. 

The centre of Alexandria was flooded with people and action, those returning to Hilltop or the Kingdom packing up the wagons and horses, readying themselves to depart. Some were even getting to know the guards Paul had organised which seemed promising.

Paul saw Maggie and Rick talking by her cart as he made his way around loading up boxes and headed over to listen in.

“I’ll have to see how many I can spare, but that shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“ _I’m_ staying,” Paul couldn’t help but interrupt with a smirk as he loaded a box into the cart next to them, “how many more could you need?”

Rick rolled his eyes but Maggie snorted out a laugh. “That’s fair Rick, you are taking our one man army.”

“Well _Superman_ here aside, we could still use whatever you can send. I’m sure we’ll be back up to our old standards soon but until then, we need the help. We’ll be grateful for any additions.” 

Maggie nodded, accepting the gentle hug she was pulled into with only a minor hint of hesitation. Paul couldn’t help but hope that their relationship could be salvaged after the past few years. He might not always agree with Rick, or hell, even _like_ him, but he knew how important he was to the two people Paul loved the most in the world and he hated how the separation had hurt them both.

Rick left soon after, Michonne coming to get him and have her own goodbye with Maggie as Paul went back to getting things organised. Soon enough the wagons were packed up, everyone who had travelled to Alexandria ready to depart. The absence of Kal, Alden, Larry, Dianne and Rosie was felt keenly by them all. Paul took advantage of the quiet moment to head over to Maggie as she stood surveying it all, a slight slump to her shoulders.

“Hey,” he greeted her gently, bumping her shoulder with his, “you all ready to go?”

“Yeah, everything’s done. Just- I’m just trying to think of what i’m ever gonna say. How can I go back and explain everythin’ that happened? How can I tell them all we’ve lost people and it’s probably just the start of it, that we’re preparing for a fight yet again. How many more times can we do this Jesus? How many more times can _I_?”

He turned to her and took her hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

“As many times as we need to,” he said firmly. “We will fight and win over and over for what we’ve built and got. We can’t and won’t do anything else. You can do this Maggie, I know you can, and you won’t be doing it alone either. You’re the best of us all Mags, don’t doubt yourself now.”

Maggie sniffed once, eyes bright before she pulled Paul into a hug, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing tight, Paul returning the hold.

“Thank you,” she said into his neck before pulling back. “What am I gonna do without ya huh?”

He smiled at her. “You’ll be fine. And it won’t be forever yeah? You’ve got Daryl there too. It should be me who’s worrying, I’m here with _Rick_!” 

Maggie snorted and dug an elbow into his side. “He’s not that bad. You’re just scared ‘cause you’re datin’ his brother.”

“He glares at me Maggie! Like daggers!”

“That’s ‘cause he spotted that damn hickey on your neck.” 

Paul choked. “ _What_?”

A truly wicked grin spread across Maggie’s face. “Oh my god, did you not know?”

“No! I don’t exactly spend a lot of time looking in mirrors! Is it bad?”

“Am I interrupting something?”

Paul turned, face hot, to see Ezekiel stood with a wide grin on his face.

“Oh nothing,” Maggie began, far too innocently, “just the fact that Paul’s datin’ a vampire apparently. Who’d’a thought Daryl went in for that.” 

“You can all fuck off.”

They both laughed at him, Paul flipping them off, his face still hot but half of him already looking forward to the teasing and ribbing he was going to unleash on Daryl when they saw each other again. 

“Well on that note,” Ezekiel said with a wide grin, “it is indeed time for us to ‘fuck off’ as Jesus so eloquently put it.” 

They all sobered a little, Paul pulling Maggie into another quick hug and getting hauled into a bear hug from Ezekiel as soon as he stepped away from her. 

“Be safe okay?” he said as he was released from the back breaking embrace. “Get things ready and I’ll do the same here. We’ll get through this, we always have before.”

“And you Jesus. We’ll fight and prevail, I’m sure of it. But...” Ezekiel dropped his exuberant confidence for a moment and stepped in closer.

“Be careful my friend. I fear here is more dangerous at the moment. The foundations of this community are unstable and there’s always an enemy inside the gates. Watch yourself.”

Paul nodded, clapping his old friend on the arm. Maggie just nodded, steeling herself before they both turned and walked away from him over to the group waiting at the gates. He watched them leave with a churning stomach, hating his people being spread too far from him, too far from his protection and watchful eye.

It was quite alarming to have so recently realised he would honestly burn the world to ash if anything happened to the people he loved. Though perhaps not as alarming as it should be. Either way, they were all his now and he would not give them up or lose them for anything.

 

For the past few hours since the caravan had left, Paul had been training various groups of Alexandrians, burying his nerves and worries under simple, easy work. However, he was fairly sure he had his work cut out for him with his current group as they ventured out on their first real journey beyond the walls. 

He was taking them on an easy route, some roads he’d already been out alone on and cleared not an hour before. They were as prepared as he could get them without actually facing some walkers, so out of the nest they were going. Flying or falling was up to them.

“Come on now,” he called to them as the few walkers he’d strategically left noticed the commotion of the group of six, turning and ambling towards them. “You know what to do, don’t lose your nerve. I’m right here but you don’t need me, you’ve got this.” 

Of course the whole situation was made infinitely more uncomfortable and stressful by the sudden addition of Rick to their first little field trip. 

Paul had tried to get him to stay behind, telling him it’d only make the group feel under pressure and get distracted. He’d simply replied they had to learn to fight and perform under pressure. Fair comment, he’d give Rick that, but it wasn’t the point and it frustrated him that Rick wouldn’t listen.

His frustration of course had _nothing_ _whatsoever_ to do with stress generated by the new awareness of the fucking hickey on his neck. Daryl was going to get his ass kicked up and down Hilltop for that, though Paul couldn’t say for sure if he’d even realised he’d done it.

He quickly diverted his thoughts from replaying when exactly it might have happened, Rick’s presence at his side better than any cold shower.

Paul watched closely as Nick got it together enough to take down the first walker, feeling a small measure of pride at his actions. It seemed to bring a bit of confidence to the rest of them after that, Janet taking down the next, with Jamie and Pablo teaming up to get another.

“Well done guys,” he called, “one left and we’re done!”

They turned as a group on the last walker, Simone raising her Hilltop traded spear to take it out. Paul didn’t see the kill shot, his head snapping to the left of the group instead, just as an ambling group of five walkers emerged from the trees. 

“Guys be careful!” 

He pulled his knives, about to dart in to help when another herd emerged from the trees right next to him and Rick. 

“Shit!”

He ignored Rick and jumped into action, kicking the nearest ones away before stabbing two coming close behind, Rick taking down one or two out of the corner of his eye. 

“I thought you said you’d cleared this route!” Rick hissed as more kept pouring in. 

“I did!”

And he had, he really had. By the time he’d headed back to Alexandria, there were only a few left in the area, just enough to give the trainees something to work with. He knew for a damn fact that an hour ago, there hadn’t been a herd anywhere near them.

Killing the last of the walkers in his way and leaving the rest to Rick, Paul sprinted to the panicking trainees. He tackled a walker out of the way just before it took a chunk out of Nick, smashing its head in with a well placed kick before jumping to the next close call, knives flashing. 

“Get in formation!” he ordered between stabs. “Make a circle facing out, watch every line of sight!” 

After a tense second they did what he asked, all except Vincent, the terrified man having managed to get himself cornered away from the group. Paul knew he wouldn’t reach him in time and from the way Vincent was visibly panicking, he didn’t have a chance in hell of fighting the walkers off himself. Heart pounding, Paul tried to figure out a route to get to him, killing a walker in front of him but being pushed back by another, back to the circle of scared newbies behind him.

The dead moved closer and Paul knew Vincent was done for. He was so focused on the disaster about to happen in front of him and protecting those at his back, he didn’t even think of Rick until he came barrelling out of nowhere, taking the walkers down with heavy swings of his hatchet. He grabbed Vincent, fighting his way through the walkers separating them from the main group before shoving him into the relative safety of the circle.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he nodded at Rick, the two of them stood either side of the circle.

“Okay,” Rick shouted breathlessly, “take out the rest!” 

They listened to him, suddenly seeming to find a little confidence. There weren’t many walkers left but as they advanced on any side of the circle, someone would be able to dart forward just a little and take it out. A few tense minutes later, the last walker fell. 

Everyone was left breathing heavy, the cloying smell of decay thick in the air. 

“Well,” Paul said to break the silence, “that was certainly a trial by fire. Good job guys. If we had a bar, I’d buy you all a round.” 

Simone giggled nervously and Paul decided he liked her the best.

They wrapped up quickly after that, Paul taking point and Rick bringing up the rear, the newbies between them, alert in a way Paul hadn’t seen them up to that point. As scary as it must have been for them, not to mention dangerous, he couldn’t help but think it did them the world of good.

They stayed quiet as they made their way back to Alexandria, most of the group herding close to each other. Paul couldn’t help but notice Vincent lingering at the back of the group, inching closer to Rick. Given the events of the other day, Paul felt justified in listening in to their conversation. It wasn’t that he thought Victor was going to do anything to Rick, especially not after his rescue at Rick’s hands, but it wouldn't hurt to keep an ear out.

And yes, he had to admit, the need to know everything that was going on was too strong to resit, it always had been. He’d always rather be in the know, no matter what methods he had to take, so he could be one step ahead of the curve. It’d saved his life before and after the world went to shit and it was so ingrained he couldn’t get rid of it if he tried. 

From his position at the front, it was easy enough to overhear, even if he couldn’t look without being too obvious.

“Hey,” Vincent began quietly, voice still faintly shaky, “look, I erm... I don’t want to bother you or anything but... I wanted to thank you.”

“Don’t need to thank me,” Rick said after a second.

“No no, not just- not just for today,” he corrected, sounding contrite and ashamed. “After what I did, what I was a part of... I shouldn’t even _be_ here.”

Rick paused for a moment before answering.

“No, you _should_ be here. Killing someone for their mistakes? For punishment? That’s not who we are. Not anymore. Doing a bad thing doesn’t make you a bad person. If we wrote you off then, killed you or sent you away, we’d be losing all the good you could do, all the things you could bring to the community...”

He trailed off, Paul risking turning around slightly to get a read of Rick’s face, the distant look making worry bloom in his gut. 

“Rick?” 

“Sorry Vincent, just thinking.”

They didn’t speak again after that, leaving Paul stewing in concern for the rest of their journey home. He didn’t like Rick’s tone, didn’t like the things Paul was sure he was thinking of, what he might be making connections to.

His suspicions were made solid as he watched Rick immediately head for Negan’s jail upon their arrival back at Alexandria.

Fucking hell.

He was swept up in the conversation soon after that, unable to leave as his group reached the nervous excitement stage of having survived their first real fight for their lives. He congratulated them, reassured them they’d done well and they’d keep training, gently informing them that more work was needed but they’d all improved so much. 

When they’d all finally dispersed and Paul was left alone, he headed straight to the jail, hoping to overhear something if Rick was still there. He made sure he wasn’t being watched before crouching close to the window to listen, hearing two people talking. He knew it was Rick and Negan but for the life of him, he couldn’t make out what was being said, frustration raging through him, feeling like he absolutely _needed_ to know what shit was going on to stop everything from falling apart. 

Paul continued to listen, wishing to fuck he had Daryl’s far keener hearing before the unmistakable sound of the prison door opening and shutting made him dart around the house. He watched out of sight as Rick climbed the steps back out onto the street, rubbing his hands over his eyes and looking shaken and tired. It unnerved Paul as much as it lit up the anger in his blood. 

Whatever was going on, whatever Negan was saying or doing, it needed to stop. _Paul_ needed to stop it.

He waited until he was sure nobody was looking, the streets around the prison quiet as always, before he slipped down the steps and to the first door. It was locked as usual and thank fuck for that, but a locked door had never stopped Paul Rovia yet. Pulling his lock picks out of his pocket, he quickly and quietly unlocked the door and made his way inside to darkness of the basement prison. Eyes adjusting to the lack of light, he fixed his gaze on the hunched figure sat on the bed in his cell. Negan.

Their eyes met and Negan looked him up and down like a dog would a rabbit. It almost made Paul want to laugh. 

“Well lookey here, it’s the son of God himself. How the fuck are _you_ , Jesus? Long time no see.”

“Been doing great,” he answered glibly, standing in front of the cell with folded arms. “Seeing your face has significantly reduced my mood, but I’ll live.” 

Negan grinned. “Then why’re you here? Never bothered dropping by to see my fucking _gorgeous_ face before.” 

“Never felt the need to subject myself to it before if I’m honest.”

“So what changed?”

Paul paused for a second, staring at the vile bastard, taking stock of the changes in him since he’d last laid eyes on him. He was thinner and haggard looking; beard longer, covering the scar on his neck and his hair shorter, shot through with grey. More than anything, he just looked empty, a shadow of his old self. Paul was pleased to note imprisonment didn’t suit him.

“Just wanted to see what trouble you were causing. You’ve been talking to Rick an awful lot lately.”

Negan smirked. “Well since I can’t exactly pop around to old Rickie’s house for a beer and a chat, it’s more him talking to me.” 

“I think you should stop with whatever it is you’re doing. Now.”

Negan sat forward, grin widening. “And what exactly is it you think I’m doin’?”

Paul shrugged lazily. “Couldn’t say for sure. Spreading your poison, trying to bend Rick’s ear, attempting to convince yourself you still have some measure of pull or influence on anything or anyone on this earth when all you really are is an animal in a cage.”

Negan’s grin dropped slightly, eyes going cold, flicking over Paul like he had any hope of reading anything off him.

“You really think you’re somethin’ huh _Jesus_? So what are you here for then huh? I see them fancy knives of yours, you here to stop me and my dastardly plans?”

Paul smiled tight and cold. “No. Rick wanted to keep you alive, so you’ll stay alive. I’m here to warn you that if you don’t stop manipulating Rick, I’ll hold you down and cut your tongue out.”

All pretence dropped from Negan’s face, showing cold anger as he narrowed his eyes.

“Bullshit. Soft touch like you? Nah. You’re all talk.” 

“We both know damn well,” Paul said almost pleasantly, “that I’d have shot you in the head without a second thought if it wasn’t for that tiger surprising us all. So if you honestly think I wouldn’t come in there and rid the world of your verbal bullshit forever, you’ve clearly not been paying attention.”

Negan said nothing, eyes fixed on Paul as he slowly stood and made his way to the bars, leaning in as close as he could.

“One of these days Jesus,” he growled out slowly, “you’re finally gonna meet your fucking match. I hope I’m there to see it. I hope I can _help_.”

Smiling coldly, Paul stepped up to the bar, staring Negan right in the eyes. “Good luck with that,” he said simply, refusing to waste anymore time on the bastard, before turning and walking away, practically feeling the holes being burned into his back from Negan’s glare.

He reached the door of the prison and paused. “Remember what I said,” Paul threw over his shoulder. “Any more bullshit, I will nail that tongue to the gates of Alexandria.”

Then he left, locking the door behind him once more, plunging Negan back into his darkness and captivity.

Despite his best efforts, it was still hard to shake off the conversation as Paul went straight into his next lesson, but it provided a good enough distraction, showing the group hand to hand combat and knife fighting. The Whisperers weren’t ones for guns, not from what he’d seen. They were sneaky, close up killers, hiding silently until they could stab you in the back. It wasn’t like the war they had with the Saviours and they needed to know a different way to deal with this new threat.

He dismissed his students after a couple hours or so, grateful to not have to deal with anymore for the day, hoping to get even an hour on his own in the attic of Rick’s house. Hell, he’d settle for hiding in the fucking stables right now.

Almost salivating at the idea of some peace, of trying to block out all of the current bullshit for just half an hour, he wasn’t pleased to round the corner and see someone spray-painting large letters on the side of a wooden fence.

“What on earth are you doing?” Paul asked as he reached it, seeing one of the older teenagers, Tim, pull his scarf from around his mouth.

“Mr Grimes told me to do it!” he answered urgently, like he was scared Paul would tell him off. The answer just left Paul more baffled, absently nodding for him to continue.

Paul stood watching Tim spray paint the slogan that Rick obviously wanted spreading around Alexandria if the amount of paint and spray cans in the bag by Tim’s feet was any indication. 

Silence the Whispers. Their own little propaganda piece.

He didn’t like it one bit, didn’t like the way Rick seemed to be stoking this fire or the direction he was sending it in. It felt wrong, his reaction such an extreme changed from the terrified apathy he’d hung onto until he’d been beaten up. Until he’d gone and talked to Negan.

Suddenly there was rage in Rick’s actions, there was manipulation, the whole performance with Victor perfectly manufactured to show Rick’s magnanimous and forgiving nature, to help convince the people to follow him completely. It was clever, Paul would give him that, but it sent a churning feeling through his gut. 

This wasn’t the Rick he knew. 

“You don’t like it either huh?”

Paul turned to see Michonne at his side. He looked at her closely, seeing the tension and unease in her eyes, her tightly folded arms and the sword that was slung once more on her back.

He turned back to the sign. “No, I don’t. It feels wrong. I wanted us to fight back, I’m not gonna deny that, and I wanted Rick involved. But _this_?”

Paul trailed off, unsure of how to put into words what was unnerving him about the whole situation and the direction Rick had taken.

“Yeah,” Michonne replied lowly, “I get it.”

They stood together I silence for a little longer, watching as the slogan was painted around Alexandria, as though Rick wanted everyone reminded constantly of their aim.

“No! You’ve _got_ to fight! We need everyone in this!”

Michonne and Paul looked at each other, recognising Rick’s raised voice, both of them rushing around the corner to see Rick pushing a gun back into Mike’s hands. Paul remembered him from training; he was older, gentle and more to the point, he was hopeless and afraid, hating every minute he spent outside of the gates, terrified of the dead and any fight he might end up in. Paul had given him a pass, told him to go home and not worry about fighting.

“P-please... I don’t want to,” Mike said desperately, pushing the gun back at Rick. “Jesus said it was okay! He knows I can’t fight, that I don’t want to! I’ll get people killed, I’ll get _myself_ killed! I’ll stay here, look after the little ones. I can’t kill anybody Rick!” 

“You can and you will!” Rick growled. “You’d leave all these people to fight for you? To keep you safe while you do nothing? Really? You’re that much of a coward?!”

“Rick!” Michonne shouted, interrupting his tirade, face firm as she stared at him, Paul tense at her side. “That’s enough. Mike? It’s fine, you’ll stay here and look after the kids. Give me the gun and go on your way.”

Rick looked outraged as Mike hurried over to her and passed her the gun with a look of utter relief before he walked away as quickly as he could without running.

“What the hell was that?” Rick hissed as he turned on Michonne. “He’s got to fight! _Everyone_ has got to fight!” 

“No they don’t Rick! That’s not what we’re about, that’s never been what we’re about! When have we ever forced people to fight before? What’s next, forcing people to work for food, to go out on runs, to raid and murder just to earn their keep? It’s a damn slippery slope Rick.”

“You think that’s what I’m doing?! Becoming Negan?!”

Despite feeling incredibly uncomfortable in the middle of what was feeling more and more like an argument he shouldn’t be there for, Paul agreed with Michonne and couldn’t help but admire her balls for daring to say it to Rick’s face. 

“No,” she said quieter, “but I think you’re spreading panic. I think these, these slogans and bits of propaganda are winding people into a frenzy.”

“Good!” Rick insisted. “I want them in a frenzy, I want them to be reminded of it everywhere they look. They need to prepare for what’s coming, they need to be ready. We can only do that if they’re all joined together and their anger is pointed in the right direction. Before this, they were pointing it at me, at each other. Now it’s back where it belongs, pointed at the Whisperers.”

Michonne look stunned for a second, Paul feeling his heart race as he looked at Rick, _really_ looked at him. He just seemed unhinged, off centre, a far cry from his usual control.

“Rick,” Michonne said gently, stepping forward to put a hand on his shoulder, Paul feeling like he was intruding yet again. “This isn’t us. It isn’t you. It’ll get people hurt. It’ll undo everything we’ve worked for. Yes we need to make ready, we need to fight, but it needs to be out of the desire to hold on to everything we have, not out of sheer cultivated terror.” 

“No,” Rick said quieter, tightness in his voice, “we need that terror. You didn’t- you didn’t see it Michonne... hundreds upon hundreds of walkers. The way the Whisperers were. The people here, they’ve been safe too long. They need fear again, real fear, to keep them alive. And we need them to all fear and all follow the same things.” 

Fear the Whisperers and follow him. That’s what Rick meant. He wanted sole control and to be the sole figurehead of this upcoming fight and Paul couldn’t help but feel a churn of worry and guilt. He’d started this, he’d set it all up and fought to convince Rick to join them. He just hadn’t expected _this_ , hadn’t expected what Rick would be like now. He’d been thinking of the old Rick, the one before the death of Carl, and now he wasn’t sure this new man was the best person to take sole control.

“Rick!”

They all looked up at the panicked shout and saw one of the cooks, Paula, run towards them, her face pale and eyes wide.

“The keys for the jail,” she panted as she reached them, “they’re gone!”

“What?!”

Rick sounded like the word had been punched out of him, staggering slightly where he stood.

“Have you checked on Negan?” Michonne asked urgently.

“N-no,” Paula stuttered, “I was- I was too scared. I went to take him food but the keys were gone so I ran straight here.”

Paul barely stayed long enough to hear the rest of her sentence, shooting off running as quick as he could to the jail, Michonne and Rick following behind him. He reached the door, jumping down the stairs and wrenching the unlocked door open and all but throwing himself down the rest of the stairs. 

What he saw stopped him in his tracks, numb shock hitting him like a brick, like he’d actually expected to see something different, even after what Paula said.

He just kept staring as he heard Michonne and Rick run down the stairs to join him, stopping so suddenly it was like they hit a wall. 

“He’s gone,” Michonne said numbly as they all looked at the empty cell.

Shit.

  

There was an unease throughout Alexandria, the people knowing something had happened but no idea what. It was making tensions and tempers rise, people snapping at each other as they tried to figure out why a select few members of the community were charging around fully armed and pale faced, checking every entrance and exit, every possible escape. 

Everywhere he went, Paul had to constantly reassure people that everything was under control and not to worry, doing a damn sight better job of it than Rick. He’d been charging around since they’d left the empty prison with thunder on his face, all but dragging the guards that’d been on duty into a room and questioning them to within an inch of their lives, confusing the shit out of them as they weren’t being told what actually happened.

Now he found himself stood with Michonne and Aaron, one of the very few others trusted with the truth, waiting on Rick to return from wherever the fuck he’d stormed off to. Paul could hear the guards at the gate talking between themselves, unsure as to why they’d had to step security up so urgently, worrying over whether or not it was the Whisperers again, whether or not they’d find more people missing.

Paul tried to keep projecting an expression of relaxed alertness, knowing that pretending nothing was happening would only stress people out more. He wanted the people to look at him and feel like yes, there obviously was a situation but it was being handled. Inside however, he was freaking the fuck out.

Negan was free. _Negan_. He was set loose upon the world just like they’d always feared would happen one day, regardless of Rick’s assurances that it never would. And Paul knew that Negan’s captivity had only made him more bloodthirsty than ever, he’d seen it when they’d last spoke. Others may have believed it had neutered him, but Paul knew better. They were all in danger.

Hand moving almost subconsciously to one of his many knives, he couldn’t help but remember the promise he’d made, the promise he fully intended to keep.

Finally they saw Rick march towards them, all of them huddling together once he’d reached them. He looked stressed as all hell and angry. Paul couldn’t help but feel like it was the rest of them that should be feeling angry, they’d wanted Negan dead after the war, it was Rick who’d risked their lives and futures like this.

“So,” Michonne began lowly, “do we think he went over the wall?”

Paul shook his head at the same time as Rick spoke. “No, he wouldn’t have risked that drop, wouldn’t have risked being seen like that either.”

Rick looked over each of them, face grave. “I think he slipped out with Maggie’s group.”

Paul’s heart flipped as his stomach clenched, Rick putting words to his own thoughts.

“Yeah,” he said, surprised his voice stayed steady, “I think you’re right.”

A moment of tense silence smothered them for a moment before Michonne broke it. 

“Okay, we need to go after him. Track him down before he can do any damage.”

Paul nodded, “I’ll go too.” 

Rick shook his head and turned to him. “No Jesus, we need ya here. We can’t have both of our best fighters out looking for Negan when we have no idea when the Whisperers might strike. We need you to keep trainin’ the people, and to be ready if an attack came.”

“I’ll go then,” Aaron interrupted quickly, casting Paul a sharp look, seeming to know the tirade he was about to hit Rick with. “Between me and Michonne, we’ll have him back in no time.”

“What is he doing though?” Michonne asked. “Where is he going?” 

“If he has any sense, he’s riding off into the sunset, never to return.” 

Rick shook his head at Aaron’s answer, face dark. “No. No Negan isn’t the type to turn tail and run, not after being imprisoned all this time. I think... I think he’s more likely to come back and try to do what he’s always tried to do. Take it all from us.”

“How much does he know about our Whisperer situation Rick?”

They all looked at Michonne, Paul’s stomach swooping at her tone. It wasn’t even really a question.

Rick hesitated, looking down at his desk. “Too much,” he forced out.

“Fucking hell Rick,” Paul couldn’t help but hiss out, all his worries proven true.

Michonne shot him a warning look before turning back to Rick. “Then we know where he’ll be going. We’ll just have to get him before then.”

Rick nodded gravely. “Yeah. Yeah you’ll need to.”

Paul forced himself to breathe and stay calm, absolute frustration burning through him, mind turning over all the things Rick could have told Negan, could have gotten his fucking input on. The propaganda thing for one.

But there was little to no point letting that anger out now, he knew that, it’d just waste time and get them nowhere. 

“You’ll need to set off now if you want to find his tracks before you start losing the light,” Paul said instead, focusing on planning rather than smacking some sense into Rick.

Aaron nodded, Rick pulling Michonne to one side after that and talking to her quietly. Looking away at the personal scene, he turned to Aaron. 

“You know it should be me going.” 

“Gee thanks for the vote of confidence man,” Aaron answered dryly.

Paul rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that and you know it. But I _should_ be going after him. Plus, I made him a promise and I intend to keep it.”

“Do I want to know what that is?”

“Not if you want plausible deniability.” 

Aaron huffed out a laugh. “Yeah okay, fair enough. We will get him though, okay? We’ll bring him back and lock the bastard right back up.” 

Paul nodded with confidence he wasn’t sure he felt. “Well just be careful yeah? He’ll be more dangerous now than ever.”

Aaron nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. “We will Jesus. You just keep it all going here. With Michonne gone, Alexandria needs a stable head to, well, to keep an eye on Rick. I understand what he’s trying to do but I don’t think it’ll work how he wants.” 

“I think you’re right.”

 

Watching Michonne and Aaron leave was hard, every instinct in Paul screaming at him to tell Rick to go fuck himself and charge out after them. It felt so wrong, to just stay safe within the walls of Alexandria whilst they went out to track Negan. Fuck he was so angry that it was even possible for that piece of shit to escape. He should’ve been six feet under or tossed to the walkers long ago.

God, how would Maggie react if she found out? He hoped Negan would be found and locked up before she ever had to hear about it, but some dark, heavy weight in his guts said otherwise. Luck was never on their side when it came to shit like this.

Moving back through the community, people downing tools and packing up for the day, Paul remembered he’d not had a bite to eat since breakfast, his stomach finally clenching to remind him. Mind still stuck on his worry for Michonne and Aaron, his anger at Rick and his disgust for Negan, he didn’t have an appetite to speak of, but he still needed to eat, not willing to let himself be at anything other than top condition.

Dragging himself to the kitchens, he knocked on the door before entering the busy, controlled chaos of the room. Though it wasn’t Hilltop, he still knew the cooks well enough that he was sure they would take pity on him, shooting them a sheepish smile as they turned to look at him. 

“Any chance I could just grab a quick bite of something? Pretty please?”

He always seemed to underestimate the cooks of all three communities and their rabid enthusiasm for feeding him up. Before he could blink he’d been forced into a wooden chair, had a bowl of thick soup put in front of him and a hunk of bread. He smiled and thanked them, digging in with a lack of manners and speed brought on by pretty much a whole lifetime of expecting someone to try and take it.

“Slow down Jesus, it ain’t goin’ nowhere!”

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “ _It_ might not, but _I_ probably will. I’m a busy man ladies! Much in demand. And who can blame them, just look at this handsome face!”

He grinned and winked at them, the oldest gently swatting him over the head as she moved behind him to check the ovens.

Miriam though wasn’t grinning, she was just staring him out with an expression that made him feel like she could see every thought and worry in his head. 

“You _are_ much in demand,” she said finally, tone disapproving. “You lookin’ after yourself? Seen you runnin’ all over God’s green and you don’t never seem to stop. Worse since your young man went.”

Paul inhaled a bit of soup, coughing roughly to clear it. “My young man?” he choked out, infinitely amused at someone calling Daryl that.

“Yes, well, in a manner of speaking of course. It is _him_ robbing the cradle after all.”

Paul nearly spat out his food, choking it down and actually laughing for the first time in ages.

“Oh God, please say that to his face. I will _pay_ you to say that to his face.”

The levity of the moment was broken as sharp as smashing glass, the sound of a single gunshot followed by pained shouting piercing the air.

Paul jumped out of his seat, manoeuvring his way swiftly around the stunned, suddenly very pale cooks and bursting out of the door. He followed the noise and commotion to the back of the trailers, halting at the sight of Marco on the ground, blood pouring from his leg and Simon stood over him holding a hunting rifle, his shaking hands aiming it at Marco’s head as he screamed at him.

“Were you involved!? Were you one of the fuckers who took our people!?”

Some Alexandrians rushed past to look after Marco as Paul turned on Simon, lunging before he could shoot, tipping the rifle upwards as he punched him in the face, just enough to disorientate and allow Paul to disarm the stunned man. He engaged the safety as Simon clutched his nose, eyes watering, before throwing it out of the way.

“Somebody get James, now!” he shouted at the crowd beginning to form, seeing more weapons being drawn.

“And put your weapons down! Nobody has got inside, the Whisperers aren’t here, it’s just been a big misunderstanding. You can all go back to what you were doing.”

Nobody moved. 

“Now, please!”

They slowly dispersed, Paul turning to Simon once the majority of people had left.

“What the _hell_ were you doing?” he asked, trying not to shout in his frustration. This was the last thing they all needed.

“He- he’s a Whisperer!” Simon insisted, eyes still watering. “I’ve never seen him before! He’s here to kill us!”

“No Simon!” Paul couldn’t help but shout, raging at Rick for building up the level of tension this high, before forcing himself calm. “No, he’s not. His name’s Marco and he’s from Hilltop. He volunteered to stay here and _help_!”

Simon stopped moving, wiping his eyes and staring down at the bleeding, groaning Marco, James finally arriving to help.

“Oh... oh God...” Simon muttered numbly. “I thought- I was just tryin’ or protect us-“

“I know,” Paul interrupted, kinder now that the full extent of Simon’s actions had sunk in for him. “I know you were. I’ll leave it to you to make your apologies to Marco later okay? I suggest you go and find somewhere quiet to get your head back. I get what you were trying to do, but please think first next time.”

He let Simon go, the man nodding absently, face pale before staggering off. Paul sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes before turning to crouch by Marco. 

“Hey man, how’re you doing?” 

Marco glared at him without much heat. “I’ve got an extra hole in me that I didn’t need, how the fuck do you think I feel Jesus!?”

Paul couldn’t help but grin, gently clapping Marco on the shoulder. “Yeah okay, that’s fair. I’m sorry this happened. I’m going to talk to everyone about it, we can’t have shit like this happening again. The doc will get you fixed up in no time. I even got the good drugs on that run last month, so you’ll be sky high in no time.” 

Marco smiled crookedly. “Now that’s more like it. Knew we kept you around for a reason.” 

“And on that charming note, I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Marco nodded, wincing as James tightened the temporary bandage and began organising for a stretcher to get him to the infirmary. Paul thanked the doctor and left, anger and exhaustion warring inside him.

He reached the centre of Alexandria, people gathered round worriedly, those in the know trying to spread the news that it’d all been a mistake whilst others still looked pale and worried. Fuck it, he probably should wait for Rick to turn up from wherever the hell he’d disappeared to, should probably let him tell everyone it was okay, but something in his gut stopped him. The way Rick was currently behaving, he was more likely to congratulate Simon on his eager trigger finger and hyper vigilance.

Paul sighed deeply again, knowing he was being a touch unfair to Rick and had been for a while. The man was under a tremendous amount of pressure on top of a tragedy that’d obviously fucked him up. He wasn’t the same Rick Grimes he used to be and Paul needed to remember that. Still, he wasn’t there right now and Paul was, he might as well do what he could to calm the situation.  

Much like at Hilltop, the moment people saw him, they began to gather round, asking questions and talking over each other, always expecting him to have the answer. Luckily for everyone, he almost always did.

“Okay everyone,” he called, the crowd in front of him falling uneasily silent. “I know you’re all worried about what just happened but I just want to assure you that it was _not_ the Whisperers. They haven’t got into Alexandria and they haven’t hurt anyone.”

He saw relief spread through the crowd. 

“However, somebody _has_ been hurt. Marco, a volunteer from Hilltop, was shot in the leg by Simon because he didn’t recognise him and thought he was a Whisperer. I know you’re all scared and on edge, I am too, but there’s a difference between being alert and being paranoid. I understand why, but a good fighter has been injured now because tensions are so high. We need to pull together, to watch out for each other, to be alert and ready. What we don’t need is this level of paranoia and fear and violence.”

He spoke clear and strong, looking as many people in the eye as he could, hoping to drill home, without having to actually say it, that the propaganda and tension had all gotten too high. It was then that he saw a figure stood on the porch of the Grimes house. Rick. 

“We will be ready if the Whisperers come,” he continued regardless, “we will protect what we have here, what we’ve all built. So let’s try not to damage it before they even get here. Okay? Good. Marco will be fine and there will be no repercussions for who shot him, not this time. But please, everyone, do _not_ let the tension get to you. Turn to each other, help each other. You know where I am if you need anything.”

With that he dismissed the crowd, knowing the message would get passed around to anyone who’d missed it. He lingered in the area as everyone dispersed, just in case anyone wanted to talk to him. Thankfully they didn’t, his temper rising with every passing second until he had no choice but to stalk over to Rick’s house, watching the man turn and go inside before he got there. 

Shutting the door with more control than was usually needed, fighting the urge to slam the fucking thing, Paul entered the kitchen where Rick was stood waiting for him, bruised face like thunder. 

“What the hell did you go doin’ that for?” Rick hissed once they were face to face. “You just undermined _everythin_ ’ I’ve been tryin’ to do! They _need_ that tension, that fear! It’ll keep them alert and ready!”

“No Rick, it’ll keep them utterly terrified and hyper vigilant! Did you hear that gunshot huh? That wasn’t a Whisperer, that was Marco, a fucking volunteer from Hilltop! He was here to help and one of your guys shot him ‘cause he didn’t recognise him! Your stupid Silence the Whispers propaganda bullshit has whipped everyone up into a state on uncontrollable tension! It was only a matter of time before something like this happened!” 

“It wasn’t your place Jesus, your a damn guest here, these are _my_ people!”

“It _was_ my place! I’m here training _your_ damn people! I’ll risk my neck, just like always, for your people! Hell, I’ve already nearly fucking _died_ for your people! And you expect me to just sit back after one of mine got shot? You might be Rick fucking Grimes but right now, that doesn’t mean anything to me, not when you’re not making a bit of sense right now!”

Rick’s face grew shadowed even as he glared, Paul sure that he was aware of his erratic behaviour over the past few days but unable to stop it. Paul didn’t blame him for being shook up, for not knowing what he was doing, for trying to stop any kind of confrontation. With everything he’d been through, he was overdue some kind of breakdown, but Paul couldn’t let it affect anybody else's lives or safety.

“Look,” he said calmer, “I wasn’t trying to step on your toes or fill your shoes. I was simply responding to a problem quickly before it grew into anything worse. A man has already been shot over this tension, do you really want to see someone innocent killed over it?”

Rick rubbed a hand over his face, looking exhausted in a way that Paul knew no amount of rest would ever take away.

“I just want them safe Jesus. Those damn Whisperers came into our community, just snuck right in and took our people. If a bit of hyper vigilance can stop that happening again, I have to promote that, make sure every member of this community is on the lookout and ready. We don’t know when or where or how they’re going to strike. We need to be prepared. I just... I don’t want to lose anyone else. I can’t.”

Despite his anger and frustration, Paul felt true, bone deep pity for the man. He’d lost so much, lost something Paul couldn’t even begin to fathom and it had broken him, broken something that used to make Rick Grimes a leader to be followed, a leader to die for. He wasn’t the same anymore and Paul had to admit that a part of him was always wary now, analysing Rick’s decisions before he went along with them, more than he ever had before. 

Rick was a great man, but was he what the communities needed right now?

“I know Rick,” he said after a moment, “I get that. I don’t want to lose anyone either, but this whole propaganda spin won’t do what you think it will. It won’t bring them all together against a common enemy, it won’t keep them focused, it’ll just cause rifts and distractions and undue stress in an already stressful time. And if I’m honest Rick, I'm surprised you even thought of it. You’ve never needed it before.” 

Paul caught the look that passed over Rick’s face, knowing that he’d been right and it hadn’t been Rick who came up with it, not really, or at least not in full.

He softened his tone, not wanting Rick to go on the defensive. “ _Was_ it your idea Rick? Or did talking to Negan have something to do with it?”

Rick met his eyes, anger lighting up his features before it just... faded, burnt away to leave nothing but exhaustion.

“I told him too much,” he said finally.

“Then let me go after him Rick,” Paul implored. “Let me help Michonne and Aaron. He’s a starving wolf that somehow managed to get free and he will _not_ be going back easy. And if he manages to cross over into the Whisperers territory then he either tells them all he knows about us, or Michonne and Aaron get caught crossing over after him. Please Rick, I don’t doubt either of them but I’d rather be there as back up.”

Rick met his eyes, hesitant, but finally he nodded. “Yeah, go. You’d have gone anyway right?” 

Paul shrugged with a half hearted grin. “Yeah, I would. Sorry.”

“Daryl was right, back in that field. Should have left your ass up a tree.” 

Paul felt a full grin spread across his face. “I think he takes that back now, he’s grown quite fond of my a-“ 

“- and this is exactly where I leave the conversation.” 

Despite his words, he lingered for a moment. “You stay safe okay? Don’t make me tell Daryl you died. Don’t think I could do that again.”

Paul’s grin softened. “I will, don’t worry. And I’ll make sure Michonne and Aaron get back safe too.”

They parted ways, Paul heading up to the attic room to grab the rest of his gear before heading out to the stables.

Whilst he wouldn’t exactly call Ruben _his_ horse, not when they all had to share most of the time, swapping to whichever horse was free, he had to admit he was his favourite. Dark and shiny with a white splotch on his head and a fucking unshakeable calmness. With the places Paul went, and all the shit he usually found himself in, it was a quality that he desperately needed. He wondered what would have happened that day, when he met the Whisperers for the first time and nearly died, if he’d had Ruben and not a skittish fucker that ran off at the first sign of trouble.

Shrugging off the ‘what ifs’, Paul saddled up, giving Ruben a pat before leading him out of the stables towards the gates. A small sound made him pause.

“Where’re you off to on your lonesome at this time huh?” 

Paul smiled to himself, turning to see Magna and Yumiko stood behind him with their weapons and a bag. 

“Oh no,” he said firmly, “no, you’re staying here.”

“Sorry Jesus, we can’t let you go out by yourself. We owe you.” 

“You don't owe me anything,” he said, turning away to leave, “but even if you did, I’d rather you pay that back by staying here and keeping an eye on everyone. Besides, I’m just scouting, nothing serious.” 

He started to walk away, hoping they’d leave it and go back to the remaining members of their group.

“We know who you’re going after. Who Michonne and Aaron went after.”

Paul stopped, turning back slowly to look at them, seeing the truth on their faces.

“How?”

Magna shrugged. “Followed a shifty looking Rick to that house, heard him talking to someone. Figured it was a prison and I wanted to see what this community was really like. Seemed too good to be true at first, I was sure there had to be some dark side to it.”

“You go inside?”

“Yep.”

“How the fuck did you get inside?” he asked, deceptively calm. “Did you have anything to do with him escaping?”

“No, this was days ago.”

Paul saw the corner of her mouth twitch up, a familiar tricksy look in her eyes. “And you aren’t the only one who can pick locks.”

Paul had to work to keep the smile off his face, honestly liking this cocky shit of a woman more and more the longer he talked with her. Still, he didn’t like the idea of her anywhere near Negan, didn’t like the things he could have said.

“What happened? You talked to him?” 

“More like _he_ talked to _us_ ,” came Yumiko’s low, dry voice. “Started screaming as soon as we came in about how Alexandria had imprisoned him and hurt him for nothing. He made the community out to be evil. We called bullshit.”

Paul did smile then. “Good instincts. He was the leader of the Saviours, a group we fought a war with a few years ago. His MO was beating people’s heads in with a barbwire wrapped baseball bat called Lucille. Named after his dead wife I believe.” 

Magna snorted. “Knew he was full of it.”

“So how’d you know it was him who escaped?”

It was Yumiko who answered. “I overheard Michonne and Aaron talking before they left.” 

Paul raised his eyebrow. “Overheard?”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t do the same.” 

“Fair enough.”

Fuck he liked the couple, they were just so damn cool. But still...

“Look,” Magna said after a moment, sensing his hesitation, “we want to come and help. You saved our asses and we want the chance to do the same. This Negan guy is dangerous. I don’t even know the whole story and I can already see that, so let us help you get him.”

“Plus,” Yumiko added darkly, “we could really use a chance to let off steam and just kill something. Luke’s death... it hit us hard. Be nice to do something and not just wait.” 

And the thing was, Paul completely understood that. He’d always needed action to process his emotions, even if it was just training until his muscles burned. He could empathise with their need to get out and just _do_ something. 

Sighing, he nodded. “Fine, you can come. You been assigned a horse yet?” 

“Nope, but nobody’s at the stables right now... we can just temporarily borrow one for a bit.”

“Great. Rick is going to love that.”

Despite the trouble it was probably going to cause, he couldn’t help but smile just a bit, surprisingly pleased they were both coming with him. He sent them off to pick their horse, waiting for them by the gate after clearing it with the guards that they all had permission from Rick to leave. Even if it wasn’t wholly true, they’d never doubt it or check its validity if Jesus was the one to say it, their trust in him absolute. He was always surprised about how little guilt he felt for shamelessly abusing that trust when needed.

They left quickly and quietly, riding off into the evening with Paul running point. It was easy to see the direction Michonne and Aaron had ridden in, their tracks almost as fresh as the moment they left and visible to even the worst tracker. There was no point in trying to find Negan’s, they were older and he trusted Michonne’s skill far more than his own. 

They rode fast and silent, Paul appreciating that they didn’t seem to want or need to talk, content to just focus on the task at hand. He liked it, liked _them_ , wishing he’d have poached them for Hilltop instead but knowing Alexandria needed people like them; people level headed and skilled, not likely to get drawn into paranoia and propaganda. 

The knots in Paul’s stomach grew tighter the further they rode, the direction they were heading in becoming impossible to ignore. He had hoped that he’d be wrong and Negan would have just run off into the wilderness, taking the chance at freedom and not the chance to fuck them all over royally.

As they headed closer and closer to that damn town, he knew his hopes were wrong.

He was so wrapped up in plans and worries that he almost didn't notice the figure on the ground at the side of the trail. 

Paul held up a hand, slowing his horse to a stop, Magna and Yumiko doing the same behind him. He dismounted, the tracks in front of him showing Aaron and Michonne must have done the same, and walked over to the body of Jackson.

He’d known that fucker would come back to bite them in the ass but he’d never have thought Jackson would go back to Negan, go back to serving and helping him, not after he’d made Alexandria his home and after everything they’d done for him. Even after attacking Rick, Paul never thought Jackson would be that stupid. Grief had obviously blocked out his common sense.

Paul bent to examine the body. His eyes were the milky white of a walker but his head was marred with a stab wound. That hadn’t been what killed him though, no, what killed him was the ugly wound across his stomach, his guts hanging out of his body. 

Jackson must have reached the limit of his ability to help Negan.

And if the wound that put him down for good came from Michonne and Aaron like he suspected it had, they mustn’t have been far behind Negan, Jackson looking like he’d only just turned before they got him.

“We’re not far behind,” he told Magna and Yumiko, “but we need to hurry. Negan’s headed into Whisperer territory and Michonne and Aaron will have followed. We need to get in and out before we’re noticed and spark a war earlier than any of us want.” 

With that grim thought in all of their heads, they mounted up and left, Paul vowing to return for Jackson’s body if at all possible. He might have betrayed them and unleashed Negan, but he’d been one of them once, had shared meals and troubles and joys with them. Paul liked to think it’d simply been grief making him do what he did, and he couldn’t just abandon his body if there was a chance to bury him or take him back home.

They rode faster after that, Paul’s heart pounding out of his chest as they followed Aaron and Michonne’s tracks almost absently now, so sure of where that bastard had gone and where his friends had been forced to follow. The body of Jackson had only spurred him on faster, hoping to any god there might be that he wouldn’t be too late. He fucking knew he should have been the one to go, stomach churning at the thought of Aaron or Michonne getting hurt or worse. 

He was getting closer to that fucking town with every second, his skin prickling as he saw it appear in front of him, the broken down cars and ruined buildings and dark, lonely alleyways. Just the sight of it sent a shiver down his spine but he didn’t relent, pushing back the memories and spurring his horse on faster. The town was a thoroughfare for the Whisperers, and whilst it wasn’t strictly in the territory they’d so barbarically marked out, Paul was sure they counted it as theirs. At the very least, it was close enough to their actual treading grounds to justify killing over.

If Negan, Aaron and Michonne had passed through there and were seen, Paul was terrified of what he might find. And what it might start.

Sure enough, as he got closer, Paul saw signs of more tracks heading into the town, his gut clenching as he slowed his horse down. He wasn’t as good a tracker as Daryl way, especially not with the finer details, but he could see that the erratic movements of the walkers were surrounded by neater tracks. Like they were being herded. 

He turned to the two women behind him and motioned for them to dismount and be silent. They followed immediately, weapons at the ready as they led the horses to a quiet corner. They should stay, well trained as they were, but had the chance to run if they were being cornered by walkers. A runaway horse was easier to get back than a dead one.

Paul removed a knife, leading the way through the buildings, hearing the sound of a struggle and picking up the pace, emerging from an alley to see Aaron and Michonne surrounded by Whisperers and walkers alike. Stomach twisting, Paul threw himself into the fighting without thinking, taking down a walker and a Whisperer in quick succession as he tried to make his way through the group to his outnumbered friends. 

Then his eyes fell on the mountain of a man in front of Aaron, his long dual knives glinting in the fading light as he moved. Paul jolted forward as if he could stop what was happening, watching it all in slow motion, the sound of fighting fading out leaving nothing but the furious thumping of his heartbeat ringing in his ears.

He felt his heart stop as the man shoved a knife into Aaron’s stomach. 

Paul heard Michonne cry out Aaron’s name distantly. His thoughts and feelings shut down without his say so, a cold, calm washing over him, different to the usual calm that always fell over him when he was fighting. He looked at the giant with the knives, one on of the coated in the blood of his friend. Paul met his cold eyes and just _knew_ this was the Whisperers ace in the hole, the one that bastard Whisperer from the other day was talking about. Beta, he remembered Daryl calling him.

This was the one that was meant to kill him, to skin him alive. The Whisperers best weapon and Alpha’s second in command.

Paul felt himself move, mindlessly killing another Whisperer, all his attention focused on the half masked Goliath stood over Aaron’s prone form. 

Paul was going to kill him. Now. He was going to put a stop to him, damage the Whisperers chances here and now, avenge his friend. He would not allow himself to be killed; to leave Daryl or Maggie or anybody else he cared about. And more than that, he would _not_ allow himself to lose any of them either.

An arrow flew over Paul’s shoulder, heading straight for the giant. Paul couldn’t help but feel ice shoot through him as Beta dodged, quick as a flash. Almost as fast as Paul, despite his giant size.

More Whisperers and walkers got between them, Paul killing them as quick as he could, suddenly desperate to get to the man and end him now. He could hear someone shouting, distantly, like his head was under water. 

He watched Beta grin through his half walker mask before turning and retreating with the rest of the remaining Whisperers. Paul jolted forward after them but was stopped by a hand grabbing his arm. 

“Jesus! Stop!” Michonne ordered firmly, eyes wide and worried. “It’s not worth it right now, we need to get Aaron back!”

Paul felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, eyes shooting to Aaron, still and bleeding on the ground, Magna pressing her jacket against the wound in his stomach. 

“He’s losing a lot of blood,” she called to them, “we need to leave now!”

“Shit!”

He rushed forward, dropping down beside his friend, Michonne doing the same. Aaron was barely conscious but stubbornly holding on, wincing as Magna kept pressing hard against the wound. It just kept bleeding. 

Paul turned to Michonne as he jumped to his feet again. “I’ve got some bandages in my bag, keep him awake!” 

He ran back down the side street he’d left his horse, praying the fucking thing hadn’t run off or been killed. Rounding the corner he saw his sturdy, loyal, amazing horse having only moved a few steps. He wrenched his bag open, heart beating so fast he wanted to throw up, grabbing the bandages and running back to Aaron’s side.

Dropping to his knees, Paul gently put his arm behind Aaron’s head, the sight and smell of blood all over him making his head spin. He couldn’t fucking die, not Aaron, he was too good to die like this, at the fucking Whisperers hands. It wasn’t _right_.

“Okay Aaron,” he said gently, projecting as much calm into his voice as he could, “we’re going to get you sorted. You’ll be fine. This might hurt but hold on.”

He lifted Aaron into a semi sitting position, hating the weak, punched out noise of pain that escaped his friend, leaning the man against him as Michonne began to wrap the bandages tight around him, staunching the bleeding as much as they could. He’d already lost so much. 

“Shit, walkers!”

Paul looked up at Yumiko’s hissed warning, seeing a group of five or six come from between the buildings. She shot two in rapid succession, Magna rising to her feet, knives at the ready as more kept emerging from between the buildings.

“Fuck, there’s too many, we need to move!” 

Magna was right, Michonne speeding up her wrapping as the others tried to staunch the flow of walkers heading for them. The bastard Whisperers must have led the herd to them and the smell of Aaron’s blood was just attracting them more.

As soon as Michonne was finished wrapping the bandages, he gently lifted Aaron as quickly as he dared, getting him settled with Michonne’s help on her horse as she jumped up behind him.

Paul could see Magna and Yumiko almost getting overrun by the walkers, his heart pounding as they fought with practiced grace and trust against what was quickly turning into a horde.

“You need to go,” he said to Michonne quickly, “get him to Hilltop and get him help. It’s the closest. We’ll stay and clear these.” 

She hesitated for a second, opening her mouth but Paul shook his head. “We’ll be right behind you. Go!” 

She did, urging her horse forward, one arm clutching Aaron tight against her.

Drawing his knives, Paul threw himself into the fray, taking out every ounce of fear and anger and pain out on the horde of the dead. His vision narrowed to whatever rotting face was in front of him, knowing logically he was being too reckless, especially at the heart-stopping feeling of teeth narrowly missing his arm. He couldn’t stop though, not even when everything around him was dead, finding himself stamping down on a head over and over, only stopping when a hand hesitantly touched his shoulder.

Paul spun around, knife raised only to be met and stopped by Magna’s. 

“Hey,” she said, breathless from her own fighting but firm, something in her steady gaze giving him something to grab on to. “Jesus? You with us? It’s done.” 

Heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his skull, Paul slowly started to get his wits back, dropping his arm and breathing hard. 

“Come on,” he said after a moment, forcing his voice to stay steady, even as his mind shook and raced, “we need to get to Hilltop.” 

They mercifully didn’t say anything about what just happened but as they returned to their horses and began the race back, Paul couldn’t help but fixate on the fact that since his ‘death’, his inner calm had apparently fucked off with no sign of returning. It was unnerving, something he relied on and needed so much having just _abandoned_ him for the first time since he was a kid. It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff with the ground crumbling beneath him, no idea when it would suddenly give way.

And in the back of his head, he kept seeing the fucking giant that had stabbed Aaron. The one Paul knew in his gut was out after him. 

For the first time since he was young, Paul wasn’t sure how he’d fair in a fight, a shiver of genuine, cold fear running through him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im so sorry for the wait! My job is killing me and tourism season is Evil. I also have to admit that I came very close to abandoning this fic if I’m honest. As much as I love my boys the the whole vision I have for this fic, I think I hit burn out with the whole TWD universe and lost inspiration. And with our little desus corner of the fandom getting seemingly smaller and less active, I started to wonder what the point was. 
> 
> At the end of the day though, I love these character and I’m not ready to give them or this fic up yet. So if you guys are still up for it, so am I. 
> 
> That being said I had enough of editing this bastard of a chapter xD so please forgive as cock ups, I’ll fix them later xD 
> 
> Thank you for still reading! I hope you enjoy this, please drop me a comment if you did (or didn’t!) xxxx

**Author's Note:**

> Well here we go again guys!!! To start of with, FUCK CANON! This shit is MINE now! I will never, ever forgive the show for killing Jesus. It still hurts and this is my chance to tell my own fucking version of the story! 
> 
> So I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter! Please let me know what you think and I hope you’re all up for jumping on this adventure with me :) xxxx


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